


And I May Be Foolish To Fall As I Do

by refuse_to_sink



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternative Universe - FBI, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canonical Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Murder Mystery, POV Alternating, Riding, Rimming, Shower Sex, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 77,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refuse_to_sink/pseuds/refuse_to_sink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a SMEA (Supernatural and Mythical Enforcement Agency) agent and a string of unusual murders in NYC are found connected to those popping up in LA. With Scott and Stiles in tow from New York... Well they become the number one murder suspects and Derek has to go undercover and pretend to date Stiles to make a break in the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ben Howard's Depth Over Distance because I'm obsessed with him and lack the originality to come up with a better title.
> 
> Come forth and read all the tropes in one story, fake/pretend relationships, smidgens of angst and alive family Hale feels all in one!
> 
> I started writing this forever ago, but actually wanted to finish the story before I posted it - so the story itself is done, just re-reading through everything before I post it. 
> 
> I'll add tags with each new chapter.
> 
> Updates should be every day, if not, every other day.

On the outside the building looks inconspicuous. It looks like any other building on the block, large, grey with revolving doors and lots of windows. It’s surprising there aren’t any American Flags hanging from each of the cement pillars screaming “ _We’re American and a Federal Agency._ ” Instead to any passer-by it appears to be just like any other office, where people sit in front of computers for hours on ends inputting numbers or whatever other boring corporate job there is to do. 

 

Instead, there are floors upon floors of government agents that aren’t well known to the public. They deal with everything supernatural and mythical. There are underground basements with labs where experiments take place, there _are_ agents whose actual jobs do consist of inputting numbers and all that other boring corporate shit. And then, there are the agents that hit the streets, who investigate crime scenes and haul peoples asses in. Derek falls under the latter.

 

Derek works for the Supernatural and Mythical Enforcement Agency (SMEA). Although it deals with the supernatural, there are humans, werewolves, witches and a host of other mythical deviations that work at the agency. The supernatural is surprisingly enough well known to many people, but still unknown to more. Which explains that while SMEA is sanctioned by the American Government, it’s also secretive. They get to carry a federal badge and weapons, but they can’t actually have SMEA written on buildings or badges. Instead their badges say FBI - much to the dismay of actual FBI agents - since SMEA get to work outside of the law majority of the time. The right to a fair trial and all that thrown out the window.

 

Derek’s sitting at the back of the debriefing room, slouched down like a rebellious teenager with his head resting on the back of the chair staring up at the ceiling. Isaac Lahey - his partner - is sitting beside him, his combat boots up on the table sprawled across their paperwork flicking through his phone. Boyd and Erica, their co-workers are sitting at the desk in front of them, arguing about _something._ Derek doesn’t pay attention to what it is they’re fighting about, having long ago learned that they’re always fighting and making up on the job. That’s what happens when you date someone you work with - something unfortunately Derek is all too familiar with, if you can even call what he did _dating_. 

 

Chris Argent - the boss of the entire West Coast agency and also a retired werewolf hunter - or so the official records show - walks in. He’s wearing work boots, jeans and a checkered shirt under a brown corduroy looking jacket. The joys of being an unsanctioned government agency also means that they don’t have a set uniform to wear, they don’t have to wear crisp looking suits and ties nor do they have to wear uniforms like police walking the beat. 

 

“Alright, listen up,” Chris says, commanding attention from every agent in the room. Isaac sets his phone aside on the table simultaneously bringing his feet off all their paperwork. Erica and Boyd stop their bickering and Derek straightens up. “There’s a new werewolf in town and his best friend, a human.”

 

Chris takes his time setting up his laptop so that it can be projected onto the large white screen at the front of the room. He pulls up two photos, presumably of the new people in town. The werewolf, is named Scott McCall and the human friend is named some unreadable name and his last name Stilinski. Under that is the name he normally goes by, Stiles Stilinski. 

 

“They’ve just moved back to California from New York where they’ve both attended and completed their undergraduate courses. McCall, the werewolf is attending a grad course, and we have yet to figure out what Stilinski is doing. They have a criminal history but nothing serious according to the police records that we’ve obtained. Public indecency, intoxication in public. Nothing of great interest.” 

 

Chris closes the file projected of the two new arrivals on the screen as he moves on to other business. Derek gets that Chris likes to keep tabs on the comings and goings of new arrivals into his jurisdiction but Derek thinks there’s no need to mention two new arrivals who have done nothing worthy of SMEA’s attention besides getting drunk in public. Which, just about any 20 something year old in university has done anyway. Not that it matters because Chris moves on to something that _is_ of importance to the agency.

 

“As many of you have probably already heard all about the multiple deaths of alphas or prominent werewolves on the East Coast while the rest of their pack cease to exist anymore. Where the rest of the pack goes has yet to be determined. Intel from the East Coast speculate that it could be moving this way. So from now on, be vigilant of any suspects, no matter what they’re brought in or charged with and keep informative records.”

 

Just as the meeting is nearing it’s finish - and Derek cannot wait, nor can Isaac by the way he keeps looking at the clock is any indication - Kate Argent walks in. Kate is Chris’ younger sister, someone who only got the job because of her brother, does things her own way and causes more problems than she’s worth, especially out on the field. Which explains why no one wants to be her partner because she walks into situations over confident and without contingency plans. She walks in without a care in the world, her black leather knee-high boots clicking on the concrete ground as she walks to stand beside her brother.

 

Except, none of that is the reason why Isaac turns his head to the side to look at Derek and Erica and Boyd spinning around in their chairs to see Derek’s expression. Derek rolls his eyes at them, huffing in annoyance and then ignores them - pretending to pay attention to whatever it is Chris is rambling about now - because he _knows_ what they’re going to say, what they’re already saying with their furtive glances at him.

 

Derek has been sleeping with Kate - it was a moment of weakness, bad judgement and just pure horniness - on and off again for the past few months, although he’s stopped now. They were never actually dating, that would involve being seen in public together, going out on dates, wining and dining. Kate wanted none of that and Derek was grateful that she never pushed for more. Instead they’d text, pick a time and a place, meet up, fuck each other’s brains and out and then leave. No strings attached, although everyone at the office already knew, even Chris. But it was never mentioned. 

 

Derek stopped because he’s come to know Kate better, her personality is worse than her work ethic and it’s ironic enough that a werewolf hunting family would be the head of a Supernatural Agency but apparently Washington seemed to think it was a good idea, and so here the Argents were. Imbedded in Derek’s everyday life no matter how much he loathes the sight of Kate now. 

 

When the meeting is over Derek is subtly trying to scramble out of the room before Kate corners him, trying to coax him into her bed again, Isaac close on his tail. 

 

“Wanna go get some food?” Isaac asks Derek when they’ve made it a safe distance away from the debriefing room and Kate. They’re heading towards their desks, but supernatural activity has been pretty low lately and there’s paperwork that Derek would rather skip out on right now.

 

“Lets go,” Derek agrees letting Isaac lead the way out of the agency building and walk towards their local burger joint they often hit up when they’re trying to get away from work for a few minutes.

 

“So are you really done with Kate?” Isaac asks after the waitress walks away having taken their orders. 

 

“Yes,” Derek gives Isaac a level glare, trying to get the point across. He’s had this conversation multiple times now, sometimes with Isaac and sometimes with Erica. Boyd keeps his mouth shut, but still gives him these looks whenever someone mentions Kate - as if Boyd thinks Derek’s a huge idiot for even sleeping with Kate in the first place - which yeah he is an idiot.

 

“Good,” Isaac nods his head digging into the salad beside his burger. “Because I know this great girl I could set you up with.”

 

“The last time you and Erica set me up on a blind date, the guy went off on a rant about My Little Pony,” Derek grunts. He never, ever wants to think or speak of that date again. He wish it never happened in the first place.

 

“In my defence, I didn’t know he was a Brony and that was totally Erica’s guy.”

 

“The fact that you even know the word Brony just tells me I should never trust you to set me up on a date.”

 

Isaac laughs tucking into his juicy burger now. “I was just trying to find you a rebound from Kate.”

 

Derek gets that, he does. He’d like almost as much to forget about Kate and sleeping with her as the Brony guy. Except Kate _had_ been the rebound from a previous relationship gone bad. Derek working at SMEA and his ex-boyfriend living back in his home town of Beacon Hills meant that it was harder to spend time together, harder to coordinate weekends and dates. Eventually they broke up and Derek found an easy lay in Kate shortly after. 

 

All Derek really needed now was no relationships, no sex, just to focus on work and worry about his own life before he ever thought of getting in a serious relationship again. 

 

**

Stiles’ old battered jeep pulls up outside his and Scott’s new house for an undetermined amount of time, though their lease is for the next year at least. He’s surprised his jeep even made it all the way from Auburn California without breaking down. He had to leave his baby behind with his dad when he went to school in New York.

 

Their new rented house is in Echo Park, LA only about 20 minutes away from Central LA. It’s a burnt rustic orange building, that looks like a house but houses three separate apartments. It’s known as a walking community and adjacent to a preserve so residents can go hiking or jogging with tons of restaurants within walking distance. 

 

It’s close enough to Central LA so that it won’t take Stiles or Scott long to get in for work or school but also far enough away that the rent isn’t astronomical like back in New York, and that way they won’t be living off or Ramen noodles and Mac and Cheese. Those were not fun times. 

 

Scott is going for his graduate degree in English and who would have thought that was ever going to happen. Except that one summer after Scott got bitten by a rogue Alpha and turned into a werewolf, his and Stiles’ life went to shit for a little while and Scott started failing all his classes. Then, he spent one summer reading up on all his summer readings and went to summer school to get his grades back up. Stiles even walked in on Scott doing one arm chin ups while reading a book. Such a show off. Ever since then, Scott had been interested in English and books.

 

Stiles, on the other hand wasn’t going for a graduate degree, not yet anyway. He had graduated with a degree in criminology and had an interest in ballistics and all things forensics When he applied and was accepted for an apprenticeship at one of the best ballistics companies in California - there was no way he could resist. 

 

“This is going to be a good year man,” Stiles beams as be grabs one of his boxes out of the trunk. Scott grabs three boxes piling them one on top of the other without much effort. Show off. 

 

“Hell yeah man,” Scott agrees. Scott is just happy to be back in California, even if he is still about 5 hours away from his mom, he’s at least still in the same state. Scott is a mama’s boy - but Stiles doesn’t blame him. Stiles himself is glad he’ll get to see his father more often as well. 

With Scott’s werewolf strength it takes them less time than it would any normal new tenants to unload their boxes from the car and into the front room of their apartment. It’s a nice apartment, not huge but large enough for the two of them. They have a nice large white kitchen, with matching white cabinets and stainless steel appliances. There’s an archway for the door with a matching archway above one of the counters so they can see through to the dining room and family room. It’s perfect for entertaining, updated and clean while also being earthy and refreshing.

 

“Hello?” a woman calls knocking on the open front door. She has shoulder length brown hair in messy curls, she’s smiling and has the most prominent dimples Stiles has ever seen. “I’m Allison and this is my roommate Lydia,” the girl continues pointing to herself and the woman standing behind her. The other woman, Lydia smiles and waves as well. She has long curly red hair, and where Allison has messy curls Lydia’s is in perfect condition.

 

“Hey,” Scott and Stiles greet in unison.

 

The minute Stiles lays eyes on Lydia, he falls in love. His mind flashes through different scenarios, dating, a wedding, a new house with a white picket fence and maybe some children. In that brief 30 seconds Stiles plans out his life, a man walks up behind Lydia and wraps his arm around her waist. _Oh._

 

“This is Jackson,” Lydia introduces. “My boyfriend.”

 

Well there goes that little plan. Whatever, Stiles is used to rejection.

 

“We just wanted to see if you needed any help, and to introduce ourselves,” Allison smiles. Jackson grunts like he doesn’t want to be here but was dragged none the less. Scott ushers them inside their apartment and they get to talking. Scott immediately gravitates towards Allison and soon they’re in a corner talking to each other, he even hears Scott giggle. Not Allison but fucking Scott _giggle._ Stiles knows Scott is already smitten. 

 

Lydia walks around the apartment, surveying it like she’s carrying out an inspection. 

 

“So uh, how long have you and Allison been living here?” Stiles asks a still inspecting Lydia.

 

“Almost two years.”

 

“Two fucking long years,” he hears Jackson mumble and knows he’s already hit a sore subject. 

 

Stiles tries to make more small talk with Jackson and Lydia but eventually he’s on his own in the kitchen, staring into the empty fridge as Lydia and Jackson slip out of the apartment. Scott is still talking to Allison in the living room, having their own little party. Well this is just going to be fantastic.

 

“Dude, who would have thought we’d land an apartment next to two beautiful woman!” Scott beams the minute Scott shuts and locks the door behind Allison.

 

Stiles blinks at Scott, not saying a word. The last thing Stiles needs is for Scott to fall for someone else just like he did their first year at university. The year Scott gave his heart and just about everything else he could (money included) just for the girl to stomp all over his heart six months later. Stiles had to remind himself that it’s not acceptable to hit a woman and instead took Scott out on one bender of a weekend. 

 

“I even got her number,” Scott continues not thrown off tilter by a silent Stiles. “She said we should go over to theirs for dinner one night.”

 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean me,” Stiles finally speaks breaking his vow of silence. “Speaking of numbers have you called daddy Duke?”

 

Now it’s Scott’s turn to be silent, a disgusted look on his face as if he’s smelled something foul. “He’s not my dad,” he says. That’s so not the point of this conversation. 

 

“You know what I mean,” Stiles sighs a put out sigh carrying the box marked kitchen into the kitchen. He starts to unpack the most random collections of plates, bowls and cutlery that they have. They don’t have a single matching set in sight, some plates are black, others red or yellow. Same goes with the plates and mugs but it’s not like either of the men care.

 

“He was an Alpha, that I had to get along with if we wanted to stay in New York,” Scott explains for the hundredth time. “He’s not _my_ Alpha and I don’t have to call him.”

 

“I’m just asking,” Stiles shrugs. “The last thing we need is that freaky wolf showing up here demanding to know why his favourite wolf hasn’t called him.” 

 

Stiles is of course talking about Deucalion who is one of the most well known Alpha’s in New York and pretty much runs the city although there are other Alpha’s roaming about. Scott had to make friendly with him when they showed up in New York especially because Scott is an omega without a pack and is content that way. Scott is usually able to prove that he means no harm and doesn’t need a pack. Deucalion offered Scott and even Stiles a place in his pack should they so desire. Stiles declined for the both of them. There was no way he was talking orders from that dude, scary Alpha or not. 

 

“He already gave us the name of the other Alpha in Las Vegas that he’s close with, the Wilkes pack. We’ll look them up if we ever need anything,” Scott explains. 

 

“Whatever, no one could be as creepy as Duke,” Stiles shivers when he remembers those red eyes that tracked his every movement the first time they met. Stalked him like he was the prey and Deucalion was just waiting for Stiles to run so that he could chase. “Plus, I think his accent was fake. That did not sound like a real British accent.”

 

“Why would someone fake a British accent?” Scott asks loading the mugs into a cupboard. Stiles sighs as he watches where Scott puts the mugs, close to the stove which makes no sense. The mugs should be closer to the fridge and the coffee machine, it’s common sense. For a werewolf, Scott lacks a lot. 

 

“Because it makes him sound more badass, like he thinks he’s the James Bond of werewolves. I have no idea, but it was totally fake.”

 

A few hours into the afternoon, after they’ve managed to unpack all the kitchen boxes and some of their clothing in their respective bedrooms they decide to head out and walk around the community and see what’s close by, food and coffee wise. 

 

They find a coffee shop/book store combination. It’s not a chain bookstore or coffee shop, but a one of a kind with old books that people drop off when they don’t want it anymore. It’s a mix of old, second-hand book with some of the newer series out. Scott and Stiles decide to go there, have a cup of coffee and something sweet to eat. The coffee is good and cheap - definitely no complaints.

 

“We should go out tonight,” Stiles says over his double chocolate muffin. 

 

“We’re both starting school and work later this week,” Scott points out. “The last thing we need is to go out and get trashed.” 

 

“Yeah but Ricky told me of this place before we left New York - Kali’s - he said it’s like the hottest underground Supe club in LA,” he whispers so no noisy neighbours sitting near them hear their conversation. The last thing they need is someone asking questions especially near their new home. “Besides we might meet some new friends, which we could use.”

 

Scott doesn’t answer, just eats his slice of carrot cake (gross) and tries to avoid Stiles’ gaze. Not that Stiles is that easy to get rid of and after years being friends, Scott should know that. Scott does know that, deep down, but he still likes to pretend that he won’t always bend to Stiles’ will. Then, Stiles makes a deal Scott’s not going to resist.

 

“I’ll even buy you a nice, greasy breakfast tomorrow morning to cure our inevitable hangover,” Stiles goads. He sees the fight leave Scott’s body, knows that he’s won. 

 

Later that night after they’ve showered and changed into clothes more appropriate for a club, they call a taxi and head into central LA. Stiles tells the cabbie the address, which is actually a restaurant but the bar is somewhere around there, hidden from the general public. 

 

They pay the cabbie and look up and down the busy street, only going to get even more busy the later it gets. Stiles isn’t actually sure which way the club is, it’s not like they’re going to find it on Google Maps or a Zagat. Stiles waits as Scott perks his ears up, walking one way and then the other until he nods his head down a dark alley. 

 

The alley is dark, has dumpsters and trash everywhere, but when they round a corner there’s a queue of people  waiting to enter through a tiny door, a large security guard standing outside with an ear piece and a list in his hand. The alley is sketchy, but then again they’ve lived the past four years in New York, they’ve been to scarier places during the day. 

 

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Scott hisses, his eyes darting from one person to the other. 

 

Stiles smacks Scott in the arm, trying to knock some sense into his best friend. Out of the two of them, Scott is definitely the one that would be able to protect himself and survive any sort of brawl they get into. Stiles on the other side would find his new home among the trash. He bruises like a peach. 

 

They make their way up the line, Scott trying to get rid of his anxiety until they’re finally at the front of the line. The bodyguard takes one look at Scott, and then at Stiles narrowing his eyes. Once the guard realises that Scott is a werewolf he nods his head and removes the red velvet rope letting the two men in, stamping their hand before they enter. 

 

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Stiles yells over the loud music. The club isn’t anything special, there’s some booths, round tables that people can stand around, a dance floor and a large bar along the far back wall. They bypass everyone, pushing through the crowd so that they can get to the bar, hurrying into a free space. 

 

“Two beers,” Stiles nods his head at one of the bartenders much to Scott’s protest. “Relax,” Stiles nudges Scott, redirecting his attention to what he’s taking out of his pocket. Stiles discreetly shows Scott the little baggy he has, which contains a special brew of Wolfsbane used for werewolves so they can feel a buzz similar to humans when they drink. 

 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” Scott snorts but doesn’t object. Of course, most underground Supe clubs already have the special blend of Wolfsbane and it’s easy enough to order with their drink. But then the mark up on the herb is ten-fold and it costs a lot more for Scott to get drunk than it does Stiles. This way they don’t have to spend a lot of money, and everyone is drunk. Win-win. When the bartender hands them their drinks and walks away, Stiles makes sure no one is looking and drops a bit of the Wolfsbane in Scott’s bottle of beer swishing it about. 

 

A few drinks into the night and Stiles and Scott are having a good time, they dance a little but they both realise that even in LA it’s not for them. They don’t have rhythm and they’re not the kind of creepy guys that try and creep up on unsuspecting men and woman to grind their dicks into the poor person’s ass. So, they find an empty booth - surprisingly enough given how late in the night and how busy it is - and sit down. Some others sit down with them, asking if it’s alright and they all start talking.

 

They meet two other werewolves and a fey. Stiles has never met a fey and he has about a million questions he’d love to ask but he doesn’t think said Fairy, Maurice, would appreciate it. Now that they have a booth to themselves, a bartender greets them - Cora - and says she’ll be their bartender for the night. She’s small, with brown hair slicked back into a ponytail and Stiles is pretty sure she’s a werewolf. The drinks start flowing even more heavily and soon enough the five of them are wasted. 

 

“We’re fucking wasted,” Scott slurs into Stiles’ ear - and maybe Stiles was a little heavy handed with that last dose of Wolfsbane, Scott is cut off. As a matter of fact so is Stiles. “We should go home.” Stiles doesn’t disagree. 

 

They say goodbye to their new friends, Damien and Alexa the werewolves and Maurice the fey. They all exchange numbers with the promise to hangout again and soon. All in all, it was a good night. Scott and Stiles got wasted and made new friends. 

 

Back out in the alleyway, away from the bar and the bouncer they see a dude passed out near a pile of garbage - someone obviously got a little too drunk. Stiles knows what that’s like, his frosh week his first year at university. He’s empathetic.

 

“Hey dude, you alright?” Stiles asks crouching down and poking at the passed out man trying to rouse him from his drunken sleep. “Dude?” he asks again poking the guy in the head this time but he doesn’t move an inch. 

 

Stiles worries for about a minute until he realises that Scott is no longer beside him and when he looks up Scott has managed to walk right into a wall, banging his head and stumbling back. Yeah Stiles was _definitely_ too heavy handed with that Wolfsbane if Scott is walking into walls. Stiles is kinda mad that he didn’t have his camera out for that though, and is tempted to see if he can get Scott to do it again. It’s not like Scott won’t heal, he’s a werewolf after all.

 

Instead, he’s the good friend that he’s always been and grabs a hold of Scott and puts his arm around his best friends weight to steady the heavy werewolf so that he doesn’t walk into any more walls or worse yet walk into the middle of the street and get struck down by a car. Melissa McCall would never forgive Stiles for that, nor would Stiles’ father. 

 

Back out on the main road, there’s hardly even any cars in sight let alone any cabs. Stiles curses under his breath trying to hold Scott’s weight. 

 

“Okay buddy, we’re going to have to walk a little longer and find a cab,” he grumbles.

 

“We can fly home,” Scott giggles.

 

“Sorry bud but we didn’t meet any witches with a flying broom tonight.” 

 

For fuck sakes, if they were in New York the minute they walked out of any building they would have been bombarded with waiting cabs. In LA everyone apparently has their own cars. Stiles tries to walk/drag Scott up the street in hopes of finding a waiting cab further up the street. He doesn’t know how long later but Stiles finally spots an idling taxi a few feet ahead and he makes to holler for it before a black van is skidding to a halt blocking Stiles and Scott’s way.

 

Two large men get out of the van and surround Scott and Stiles. One grabs hold of Scott, while the other gets a grip on Stiles and the last thing he remembers is a bag being placed over their head and presumably being thrown into the back of the van.

 

Their first real night out in LA and they’re about to die.

 

**

Derek’s getting ready to head home. He’s finally finished up all his left over paperwork that he’s been avoiding doing. If he weren’t a werewolf he’d have a major headache, not that it stops himself from rubbing at his forehead like he feels the onslaught of one coming anyway. 

 

Isaac is beside him packing away his own stuff to go home as well. Derek’s ready to go home, strip out of his clothes and fall in to his bed. Isaac apparently has a late night booty call to attend to. At least of the two of them, one is getting regular action. They’ve just started walking towards the elevator when both their phones start ringing at the same time - that can only mean one thing.

 

“Derek,” Derek sighs fetching his cellphone from his pocket. 

 

“Isaac,” Isaac answering his own cellphone presumably to talk to Kate, as Chris starts talking in Derek’s ear. 

 

“ _Derek there’s been a murder at Kali’s, just came in. It seems that Mr McCall and Mr Stilinski made an appearance at the bar as multiple people have spotted them. Bring them in for questioning. I’m sending forensics to cover the crime scene and fetch the body._ ”

 

Derek hangs up letting out a frustrated noise as he jams the down elevator button a little harder and more times than absolutely necessary. He shoots Isaac a look and Isaac is mirroring his disappointed face. Looks like Derek isn’t getting his early night in and Isaac isn’t getting his late night booty call. They step into the elevator hitting the garage button so they can get one of the agencies vans to drive. Thankfully their building doesn’t play that annoying elevator music because Derek would have broken something if he had to listen to that on their descent.

 

When they pull up outside the club it doesn’t take long to find McCall and Stilinski, spotting them a few meters up ahead trying to hail a cab - they cut the two suspects off and have a firm hold on the both of them shoving them in the back of the van, hands tied and heads covered with a bag. 

 

“What the ever loving fuck is going on? My father is a cop, if you kill me he’ll hunt you down. I promise you that much,” one of them yells - Stilinski.

 

Derek only knows that it’s the Stilinski kid because he can hear the other one - McCall - switching between whimpering and growling every few seconds. Derek would have figured that McCall would be the one with the threats, considering he’s the werewolf and if Derek and Isaac really were killers then McCall would have had a better chance getting him and Stilinski out of there.

 

“Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” Isaac groans rolling his head along the window as Derek drives back to the agency. Isaac pulls out his phone sending a text to someone. 

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“Oh so you kidnap two men but you want to stay silent? Real manly you stupid fucks, you picked the wrong dudes to mess with.”

 

Derek snorts as Stilinski continues his tirade talking to no one in particular. Also, because Stilinski is so out of his depths, he’s the one that doesn’t know what he’ll be dealing with when they get back to the agency. 

 

“You want the human or the werewolf?” Isaac asks. They’re sitting at a red light waiting for it to change. Technically they could run the red light, if they got stopped, they had badges - but Derek’s kind of enjoying hearing the kid yelling in the back like he’s some sort of badass. “You always get the werewolves.”

 

“I’ll take the scrawny human,” Derek concedes. 

 

“You’ll probably have better luck scaring him into submission,” Isaac nods. “He’ll be wetting his pants in a matter of minutes.”

 

Derek snorts as he keys in the access code, waiting for the underground garage to open so that he can drive in. Once they’ve parked, he opens the back of the van and Stilinski is still yelling and Scott starts growling when he hears people near him. Derek grabs a hold of the human while Isaac grabs the werewolf and leads them back on to the elevator and presses the button for the interrogation floor.

 

“Are we in an elevator? Are we going up? What the fuck - Scott are you still there?” 

 

“They’re like me,” McCall whimpers trying to wrench out of Isaac’s grip. Maybe McCall isn’t so stupid after all if he’s aware enough to realise that he’s surrounded by two other werewolves.

 

“Oh great, our first night in LA and we’re going to get mauled,” Stilinski groans sounding defeated. He still kicks out behind him trying to get Derek, despite the fact that Derek’s standing beside him. Derek has to hold back a snort at how oblivious this kid is, he doesn’t want the suspect thinking he’s easy. They have information to find out first.

 

When they get off at the right floor Derek nods his head at Isaac, as Isaac leads McCall in to one room and Derek leads his own suspect in to his own interrogation room. Once he’s in the room, the door shutting with a click and a lock Derek shoves Stilinski down on the chair. He flips the switch that turns on the cameras to record the interview.

 

Stilinski is still struggling on the chair, trying to stand up and leave. Derek shoves him back down with a firm grip, keeping one arm on the suspects shoulder as he takes the dark bag off of his head. The kid shakes his head, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light. Then his eyes land on Derek and if looks could kill, well, this kid sure doesn’t look pleased. 

 

“Where the fuck am I?” 

 

Derek ignores him, removes his hand from Stilinski’s shoulder and walks back around to his side of the table though he doesn’t sit down. He drops the baggy that he snatched from Stiles’ pocket in the elevator, could smell it a mile away. 

 

“Why do you have this?” he finally asks crossing his arms, making himself look bigger since he’s standing. 

 

Stilinski’s eyes land on the baggy on the table, visibly tenses but then looks back up at Derek and purses his lips to stop himself from speaking. His eyes instead take in the rest of the room, he leans a little to the side to look at himself in the two-way mirror, smirking to himself, and then his eyes move to the camera in the corner of the room, the little red light blinking. Derek will give him one thing, he’s observant alright.

 

“You guys are legit? I heard rumours about you guys in New York, I always thought it was a big joke. What kind of name is that anyway, Smee?” the kid asks sounding out the name of the agency. Yeah it does sound kind of weird, not as prestigious as FBI. 

 

Derek takes in the kids smirk, his honey-coloured eyes, his hair in-between lengths, that awkward stage after a buzz cut but not quite yet grown out. His moles scattering his face, and his cheeks flushed red most likely from all the yelling and wiggling about he’d done trying to escape. His eyes although light scream mischief. Derek’s just not sure what kind of mischief that is yet, the petty cocky kind or the murderous kind. 

 

“Why do you have this?” Derek asks again unfolding his arms to jab at the baggy full of Wolfsbane. “How do you know McCall? You’re not supernatural.”

 

“I’m a satyr, actually,” Stilinski says jutting his chin up defiantly - and now he’s just being a little shit and Derek doesn’t have time for this. He’s supposed to be off the clock, he’s supposed to be at home sleeping and he still has to come in tomorrow. Derek is not in the mood for bullshit, especially from some little punk.

 

He bangs his hands on the table, startling Stilinski - his eyes going wide. 

 

“Why do you have the Wolfsbane? Why was there a dead body at the club with your scent all over the body? Why did you leave the club so early? Have something to hide?” 

 

Stilinski gapes at Derek looking like a fish. He blows a puff of air out of his mouth before he speaks. “I have that with me,” he points at the Wolfsbane with his still bound hands, “because I was using it to get my friend drunk instead of paying those ridiculous prices, we’re new in town. That dead body? I didn’t even know it was dead! I thought he was passed out drunk and poked at him trying to wake him up.”

 

Derek straightens up, moves back to lean against the two-way mirror as he listens to the explanation. He listens intently to his heartbeat and there’s no jump or spike - no more than abnormal. Although he knows better than to use that as the only deciding factor to tell whether a suspect is telling the truth or not - not in this day and age when it’s easy to cover these things up. Especially with the supernatural becoming more known. 

 

Derek grabs the bag of Wolfsbane from the table and walks towards the door, unlocking it and stepping outside. He doesn’t miss hearing Stiles yell.

 

“I’m telling you the truth!” 

 

Derek uses one of the work phones hanging on the wall to call one of the scientist that specialise in herbs to come and collect the sample and run tests on it to make sure it’s legit. It’s not that hard to buy the special brew of Wolfsbane for werewolves to get drunk if you know the right person. It’s also not all that hard to get the right kind of Wolfsbane that kill if you know the right person.

 

He’s standing on the other side of the two-way mirror now, watching Stilinski through the mirror as he waits for the specialist to collect the baggy. He goes over the file he has on the young man - Stiles Stilinski - again and there really isn’t much about him criminal offence wise. The next time he looks back through the mirror Stiles is pacing back and forth right in front of the mirror, muttering to himself. 

 

Stiles rubs his bound hands over his face, scrubbing at his hair. He doesn’t look like he’s scared or like he has something to hide. He also doesn’t look like he’s cocky, thinking he got away with a crime. Instead he just looks like he’s frustrated and confused. 

 

Derek leaves the room in search of Isaac, to see if he’s finished with his own interview with McCall.  He leans outside Isaac’s interrogation waiting for him to finish up, when he looks at his phone he sees it’s just past 2 AM. Yeah it’s going to be a long night, he and Isaac are still due back in in a few hours - he knows Chris won’t give them the day off. 

 

He looks up when Isaac comes out of the room, he spots McCall sitting inside with his head on the table his hands dangling between his legs. He, like Stilinski, doesn’t look like he’s admitted to much.

 

“Anything?” Derek asks once the door is closed. 

 

“Nah, he said he’s new in town with his friend that Stiles?” he asks like he doesn’t believe that it’s a real name, “kid. He said he doesn’t really remember the body, he was pretty wasted but he thinks Stilinski was just seeing if he was alright.”

 

“Matches up with Stilinski’s story,” Derek nods. Maybe they really didn’t have anything to do with the murder. Wolfsbane aside they were probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is a possibility, Derek mulls over.

 

“What do we do then, charge them?”

 

“We’ve got their address on file, we let them go,” Derek shrugs. 

 

The next time Derek goes back to check on Stiles once he and Isaac finished filling out the paperwork to release McCall and Stilinski, he’s curled up on the ground fast asleep in what looks like the most uncomfortable position possible. Derek wouldn’t actually think Stiles was sleeping except for the fact that there’s even some drool dribbling down his chin. 

 

When he opens the door to the interrogation room, Stiles startles awake trying to sit up leaning against the wall. He wipes the drool off of his face on the shoulder of his shirt, then looks up at Derek expectantly as if he’s waiting for bad news.

 

“You’re free to go,” Derek says tossing the kids cellphone and wallet back on the table.

 

“Then you wanna cut these fucking things off?” he grumbles getting to his feet and holding his hand in Derek’s face. Derek lifts his hands letting his claws extend to swipe right through the rope binding Stiles. “Hey, careful!” Stiles screeches wrenching his now free hands to his chest. 

 

**

“Dude, you’re alive,” Stiles says the minute he sees Scott emerging form the interrogation room beside him. They’re being led down one hallway and then another, in an elevator down a few floors so that they’re back on the main floor of the building.

 

“You owe me my fucking greasy breakfast and I want it now,” Scott narrows his eyes at Stiles which speaks volumes because Scott blames Stiles for this. Stiles narrows his eyes back at Scott because there’s no way he’s going to take the blame for all of this. Maybe if Scott hadn’t walked straight into a wall and couldn’t even stand up straight then they’d have been in a cab on their way home before their asses were hauled in to wherever it was they were, speaking of.

 

“Where are we? How do we even get home?” Stiles asks trying to look out the large windows and revolving doors that lead out onto the street. 

 

“Take a cab,” the curly-haired blonde one says. 

 

“So very helpful,” Stiles bows like they’ve been given the answer to solve all the problems in the world. “Asshole. C’mon Scott lets go get some breakfast.”

 

When they step out onto the street it’s still dark, the sun just starting to rise and this time there really are no cabs or even any other cars in sight. It’s still too early for even early morning risers commuting to work to be awake. Stiles spots a diner across the street and sees the green blinking neon lights flashing ‘open.’ 

 

Stiles nods his head towards the diner and they jay walk across the street. He doubts dumb and dumber can arrest them for jay-walking despite the fact that they are federal agents - even if they are underground agents. They can kiss his ass. 

 

The door jingles as they enter the diner and unsurprisingly it’s deserted save for the one waitress leaning on the counter with her elbow, her chin in her hand looking like she’s about to pass out. She’s probably in her late thirties, early forties, with black curly, unruly hair, caked make up on her face with bright red lips. She snaps her piece of gum, looking up when he bell goes off. She straightens up and smiles as bright as she can for how early it is and obviously how tired she is.

 

“Sit anywhere you like gorgeous,” she greets looking at Stiles and Scott. They plop down in the nearest booth and she walks towards them, handing them a plastic double sided menu. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

 

“Coffee,” Stiles and Scott groan in unison. The waitress snaps her gum again and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

 

“I could eat this whole menu,” Scott’s stomach grumbles. Stiles can relate, they hadn’t eaten since the night before and they had enough alcohol. 

 

The waitress sets their coffee down with a little jug of milk for them to pour. “You two ready to order handsome?” 

 

Apparently this waitress is big on pet names but Stiles really couldn’t care what she called them so long as she delivered their food, and delivered it fast. So Scott orders scrambled eggs, bacon and a bagel, extra bacon on the side. Stiles orders chocolate chip pancakes with bacon on the side. When Scott kicks his leg he orders an extra side of bacon. Scott loves his bacon. 

 

They slurp their coffee down in silence as they wait for their food. The sun is starting to rise now, becoming brighter and there’s even some more cars on the road. Though what road that is, Stiles has no idea. Because he really doesn’t know where they are and he’s just thankful they live in the day and age of cellphones with GPS. 

 

“What did they ask you?” Scott questions snapping a piece of bacon off in his mouth. 

 

“Why I had the Wolfsbane, about the dead body. I didn’t know he was dead, I swear. Now I feel bad that I left him behind.”

 

“You didn’t know,” Scott reassures Stiles. “If you did you wouldn’t have left him.” 

 

“And we sure as hell didn’t murder him” Stiles snorts. “Let’s just not tell our parents this little titbit of information.”

 

“Agreed,” Scott hums dipping his bacon in Stiles’ syrup. “My mom wouldn't hesitate to drive down here and drag me back home.”

 

“You don’t think my dad wouldn’t be the one driving the car?”

 

After they’ve finished their breakfast and paid the waitress - Stiles makes sure to leave a generous tip because she was pleasant enough and it would suck having to work this early - they head back out onto the street and call the number of the first taxi company they find on the internet. Thank god for cellphones, once again. 

 

Turns out, they weren’t that far away from the club and therefore only about forty minutes away from their house. By the time they get home it’s past 7 AM and thank fuck neither of them have anything to do for the rest of the day besides finish unpacking. 

 

“Lets agree not to go out to a Supe club for a while,” Scott mumbles as they head to their respective bedrooms. 

 

“Human bars, human alcohol from now on,” Stiles agrees. “Night.”

 

“Morning,” Scott corrects.

 

Whatever, they both fall into their own beds and pass out the minute their heads hit the pillow trying to forget about the crazy night they had. As far as first nights go, their first night in New York when they got lost and ended up in Rockaway Park in Queens was a hell of a lot better than getting hauled into an underground agency and questioned for murder. In New York their first night they thought _they_ were going to get murdered. In LA they were the ones _accused_ of murder. 

 

**

Derek’s dozing off in his regular seat in the back of the debriefing room waiting for Chris to deign to show up. It’s sad when the agents are always there before the big boss, and cruelly unfair. He wishes that coffee actually worked on werewolves rather than just leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He’s running on less than four hours of sleep before he has to change back into his clothes and show up at the office. Isaac is beside him nodding off as well.

 

At least Erica and Boyd look wide away, and apparent having made up. Erica’s head is resting on Boyd’s shoulder as the whisper to each other. The other agents in the room are either on their laptops typing up reports, going over their records or talking. The other agents tend to leave Derek, Isaac, Erica and Boyd alone - having formed their own little clique - no one really bothers them, usually shooting them death glares when they’re too busy talking rather than listening to Chris. It’s pretty much like they’re in high school, only adults, which surprisingly enough makes everyones whining ten times worse than actual teenagers.

 

Derek’s ears perk up when he hears the tell-tale sign of heels clicking on the ground (because no other agent wears fucking high heels to work just in case they have to chase a suspect. Even Erica who pushes the limits usually wears styled combat boots). It must only mean that Kate is showing up to this meeting and presumably Chris right with her, because there’s no way Kate would show up before Chris. It just never happens. He nudges Isaac awake when Kate and Chris walk in, heading to the front of the room to start today’s debriefing. 

 

“Derek, Isaac, what do you have for us on the murder at Kali’s club? Are McCall and Stilinski in custody?”

 

“No sir,” Isaac answers glancing at Derek. “We let them go early this morning.”

 

“You what?” Chris raises his voice. “You let our two main suspects walk free?”

 

Isaac looks sheepish trying to come up with something to say when Derek cuts in, covering for his partner. Because they _are_ partners and they always look out for each other. “Their stories matched up despite having no time to come up with a story. The Wolfsbane found on Stilinski is being tested as we currently speak. We saw no reason or connection to the deceased.”

 

“Have you all forgotten yesterdays meeting?” Chris asks looking around the whole room. Kate just smirks hopping up on Chris’ desk at the front of the room, crossing her legs as she surveys the whole room as if she’s queen of the fucking world. “There have been similar deaths in the East Coast and we were worried it was going to be moving in this direction. And then what happens? Two people move from New York to the West Coast and there’s a murder eerily similar to those on the East Coast.”

 

Chris sighs leaning against the front wall crossing his arms. “Crime scene techs tell me the deceased is Jimmy Gently a second in command to a small pack up in San Diego. The deaths are similar to those in New York, no ripped throats, no blood, no gore. It’s as if they died of natural causes but autopsy tells us it was anything but natural. I suggest you bring back McCall and Stilinski for questioning.”

 

“Stiles is human,” Derek challenges Chris. He ignores the way Kate straightens up, starting to pay attention. She always did love a little drama. “Scott seems like a normal kid, a werewolf who keeps his head down. They went out for a night of fun and had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

“Even if this Stiles is human that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a spark, not necessarily magical, but he could still be involved. It would be easy for him to fall under the radar of most agencies. We at least need to keep a close eye on them while we look for other suspects.”

 

“You know I’ve been thinking,” Kate pipes in, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the table as she looks between her brother and Derek. Derek turns rigid, knowing that Kate _thinking_ is anything but a good sign. “Maybe we could find someone to get… close to the suspects. Undercover work.”

 

“Scott’s a werewolf, he’ll call bullshit from a mile away,” Boyd joins in the conversation. Isaac and Erica nod their head in agreement. It’s easy enough to lie to a werewolf if you know how to dance around the truth but it’s still risky. 

 

“It could be fruitful if someone got close to Stiles Stilinski,” Kate ignores everyone in the room as her eyes zero in on Derek. No one else in the room misses it, their eyes darting between Kate and Derek. Derek fucking _knew_ that Kate opening her big mouth was going to be bad news. “Someone could get an in with him, seduce him, figure out if they’re hiding anything.”

 

“You’re fucking delusional,” Derek says. And damn, he was just going to keep his mouth shut and his head down and hope that was enough to fade into the background. Just, _Kate._ Kate always got under his skin, knew how to rile him up. 

 

“It is an idea,” Chris nods pushing off of the wall. He walks towards his desk, resting his hands on the table as he moves his head from side to side, contemplating the idea.

 

“Derek, you should take point on this case,” Kate smiles, her devilish grin. 

 

“This is stupid. He already knows I’m an agent. I’m the one that interviewed him,” Derek growls.

 

“That’s exactly why you’re the perfect person,” Kate hops off of the desk and stalks towards the back of the room. Towards Derek. Despite the fact that she’s the human and Derek’s the werewolf, in that moment he feels like the prey, Kate the hunter - which, well she is. 

 

“I watched the interview,” she says. Derek snorts because when does Kate ever do any work, especially when it’s not her own case. She ignores him though, continuing now that she’s standing right by his desk. “Stiles Stilinski is a snarky little shit, too cocky for his own good. He won’t have a clue you’re undercover, he’ll gobble it up. The thought of getting with an agent.” 

 

“There’s no way in hell I’m doing this. Find someone else Chris,” Derek ignores Kate looking instead towards Chris like he’ll come to his rescue, overrule his sister. “Ask Greenberg to do it.”

 

Kate snorts her eyes glancing towards where Greenberg looks up his eyes wide open in horror at being brought into this Kate/Derek feud. “Greenberg couldn’t get laid in a prison with a stack full of pardons.”

 

“Not my problem,” Derek shrugs.

 

Kate leans down on Derek’s table, her cleavage right at Derek’s eye level so that if he looked down just that little bit more he’d see down Kate’s shirt. The thought of seeing what’s under her shirt disgusts him now. “Maybe you don’t want to head up your own team one day,” Kate sighs tilting her head to look at Derek. “Maybe you’re just content where you are, taking orders like a good little pup.”

 

Derek growls pushing his chair back ready to pounce on the bitch. Isaac shoots out his arm grabbing Derek’s shoulder trying to ground him. He hears Isaac whisper his name and just to breath. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath - just like his parents taught him to when he was younger and not in control of his wolf yet - Isaac is the exact reason why they’re partners. They know how to ground each other when they need to. 

 

“It is a good idea,” Chris sighs. “It wouldn't hurt to get some feelers out there.”

 

There’s a few seconds of silence, as everyone turns around to look at Derek. He shrugs Isaac’s hand off his shoulder, standing up. Kate stands up straight but she doesn’t back down, she’d never show weakness. “Fine,” he grunts, storming out of the debriefing room, leaving behind a silent room. Well except for Kate who claps her hands together and saying “well this should be interesting.”

 

Derek keeps walking, turning down one hallway and down another until he storms into the one bathroom no one uses because it’s so out of the way. He leans against the counter, his claws threatening to pop out. He closes his eyes taking a few deep breaths, ignoring the pounding in his heart, the anger radiating from every single pore in his body. He should have known better, that Isaac would come looking for him, when he hears a light knock on the door and the Isaac coming in.

 

Derek breaths in one last time, looking up into the mirror to see Isaac standing behind him. Isaac looks sympathetic but doesn’t make a move to touch Derek. He knows that Derek for the most part is under control, that he’s not going to hurt his partner.

 

“That was a shitty and unfair gang up on you,” Isaac tries to sympathise with Derek. 

 

“She’s just trying to get back at me,” Derek breaths through his nose. “Because I stopped sleeping with her. She’s twisted.”

 

“No shit,” Isaac snorts leaning against the sink beside Derek. “So you going to do it?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Derek grunts. 

 

Only yesterday he was thinking he needed a break from sex and relationships, that he needed to work on himself and his work. And now his work entails him getting into a fucking _relationship_ with a man the agency thinks is responsible for multiple murders on the East Coast and now in California. Or at least in the know of who _is_ responsible for the deaths.

 

This is not at all what Derek Hale signed up for when he decided to become a SMEA agency. All he wanted to do was go to crime scenes, bring in asshole criminals and throw them in jail or whatever other punishment they would have to serve. 

 

Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

**

“So we’re in agreement that we’re staying the hell away from that bar from now on right?” Scott asks giving Stiles his best ‘you better fucking agree with me’ look. They’re at a local cafe that’s less than a ten minute walk from their new apartment. They’re having their second breakfast of the day despite it being closer to noon than anything. “I’ll stick to my classes and you’ll stick to your apprenticeship?” 

 

“You got it buddy,” Stiles says over a mouthful of his fruit salad. “Human bars from now on.”

 

“I don’t even want to see another bar for a while,” Scott groans. 

 

By the weekend, they’ve managed not to get themselves arrested, by underground agencies or by well known agencies, and they count that as a success. Scott starts classes the next week and Stiles starts his apprenticeship so it’s meant to be an easy going weekend for the both of them. Maybe do a little more exploring around their walking community or maybe even go into LA and do some sight seeing. 

 

They’re sitting on the couch Friday night eating Scott’s famous one pan chicken Alfredo. It has the perfect pasta to cream to chicken ratio. Stiles could live off of this stuff but Scott only makes it when he feels like it and refuses to share the recipe with Stiles. He’ll get it out of him one day, if it’s the last thing he does. 

 

“So I have a date with Allison,” Scott mentions out of the blue. It’s a commercial so Stiles doesn’t give him the evil eye. Instead he smiles, biting into a chunk of juicy chicken.

 

“That’s great news bud.”

 

“It is,” Scott grins. “She teaches Krav Maga and all these other self defence classes. She even said that we could take one of her classes if we wanted, free of charge.” 

 

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles gives Scott a pointed look. “The last thing you need is any more self defence moves in your head.”

 

“Well I thought maybe you’d be interested,” Scott shrugs. But Scott looks wrong, he looks sheepish, like he’s hiding something. Oh no. Stiles does not have a good feeling, not at all.

 

“Oh no. What is it now Scott? Did you agree to a double date and I get the ugly friend?” 

 

“No! Not at all. Never again, we agreed to that,” Scott tries to reassure his best friend. “I told Allison she could come over tomorrow night.”

 

Oh no, oh no, oh no. 

 

“I’m being sexiled from my own apartment! The apartment I haven’t even lived in for a week,” Stiles screeches pointing his fork at Scott. Now Stiles knows why Scott made his Alfredo. Scott was buttering Stiles up. He should have spotted that from a mile off. “Why can’t you just go to her apartment?”

 

“Lydia is having Jackson over,” Scott explains. “We don’t exactly all want to be crammed in one apartment.”

 

“Oh no, of course not. So why not migrate over here and make me scram.”

 

“Please?” and Scott shouldn’t be allowed to make his eyes go so round and pleading like a little baby. 

 

“You owe me,” Stiles groans going for seconds of the pasta. He might as well eat as much of it as he can now, because he’s going to murder Scott in his sleep and then he’s never going to get to eat it again. 

 

So yeah, on a Saturday night Stiles finds himself in Central LA - having grown bored of walking around doing fuck all - sitting in a bar drinking a martini by himself. It’s not even 9 PM. He’s the definition of  pathetic. Scott better appreciate this.

 

**

Derek’s at home from a long day at work - some idiot shifter decided that it would a good idea to get in a fight and almost shift in a very public place - just about to crack open a bottle of beer when his phone dings. He knows at this point, that it can only mean one thing. It’s not as if he has much of a social life right now, and the social life he _does_ have consists of Erica, Boyd and Isaac. Erica and Boyd are having date night, and Isaac is presumably making up for lost late night booty call times. 

 

He walks over to his metal countertop looking at the newest income text message.

 

**From: Danny Mahealani**

 

**Stiles Stilinski’s credit card just used. Beaufort Bar. Get there immediately. Texting the address.**

 

Danny Mahealani is the head IT guy at the agency. Apparently, since Derek seducing Stiles to figure out whether he’s responsible for all these East Coast deaths is of the utmost importance, Danny has been given the task of tracking Stiles’ movements. Derek hasn’t been told to approach Stiles all week and he sure as hell wasn’t going to approach him of his own accord. He had thought because he got through the week that maybe Chris had come to his sense. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

 

Derek is already regretting this decision, wondering why he didn’t go into the family business - running an ‘up-cycling shop’ in Beacon Hills - but no, Derek Hale had to be the badass and join a government run agency. He looks down at the clothes he’s wearing, black boots, jeans, a black t-shirt and his leather jacket. It’s a day old now, probably a little sweaty from having to bring the shifter in, but it’ll do. It’s not like he’s going on an _actual_ date. 

 

He checks the next incoming message from Danny telling him the address, and gets in his car driving in the direction of the bar. He looks at the time, seeing it’s barely just gone 9 and who even goes to the bar that early - unless they’re meeting someone. Derek doesn’t want to walk in on Stiles already on a date, because there’s no way he can worm himself in then. But Danny had said his card has only boughten drinks for one person, and he’s hacked into the security cameras at the bar - Stiles is sitting by himself. 

 

When he walks into the bar, the first time he’s been there, it’s not all that bad or tacky. It’s a sleek, modern bar with dark red walls - without the cheesiness. It’s more upscale than some other bars where university students go just to get drunk. Most of the patrons are dressed in nice suits and fancy short dresses. He spots Stiles sitting at the bar, another man sitting beside him, but not talking. Stiles is in a pair of jeans and a plaid t-shirt which makes it even easier for Derek to spot him. Stiles sticks out ten times worse than Derek does. 

 

He’s sitting on what looks like an uncomfortable sleek, metal stool that’s more for aesthetic reasons rather than comfort. He’s sipping a drink out of a large, round glass that looks more like a bowl than a cup. He watches as Stiles takes drinks, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. It’s not _all_ that unpleasant of a sight, ignoring the hideous plaid shirt. 

 

He figures it’s do or die at this point, he knows Danny will more than likely be spying on him through the security cameras, so there’s no lying, saying he got lost on his way to the bar. He strides up to where Stiles is sitting, squished in between two patrons, but Derek squeezes in to stand beside Stiles.

 

Stiles looks up surprised at being nudged, about to say something, probably something rude. It takes him a few seconds but then his eyes widen, squinting his eyes as he remembers exactly who it is standing beside him.

 

“You here to arrest me?” he groans taking another sip of his drink. 

 

Derek smirks. The smirk he knows makes most peoples heart pitter patter, their heartbeat fluttering, pulse quickening. Except, Stiles’ doesn’t. Stiles just looks away, back at the bar, anywhere but at Derek.

 

Derek falters for a second, not used to being so blatantly rejected when he gives his patented smirk. He quickly recovers, ignoring it. “Off duty,” he explains. Derek gives the guy sitting beside Stiles a dirty look, not moving his eyes until the guy grumbles and scoots of the chair and moves farther down the bar. Derek isn’t above flashing his government badge to get what he wants, but he doesn’t need to. He sits down next to Stiles and waves the bartender over, ordering a beer. The beer he _wanted_ to drink at his apartment. On his own.

 

“I don’t even know your name,” Stiles grumbles after a few minutes of awkward silence. 

 

“Derek, Hale.”

 

“Right,” Stiles snorts side-eying Derek. “You get a kick out of being a secretive government agent? Brining people in blindly and scaring the living shit out of them - although I was so not scared.”

 

Lies. Derek knew that both Stiles and Scott were scared, at the very least startled at being thrown into the back of a van, completely off guard. But Derek isn’t about to point that out before he pisses Stiles off and ruin this whole stupid operation within the first five minutes.

 

“That’s injustice at it’s finest. My father is a cop and he at least does thing by the book, _legally_ ,” Stiles rambles on.

 

“And how many times has your dad probably wanted to put someone away from something but they got away on a technicality,” Derek points out raising an eyebrow. He watches as Stiles scowls at him but doesn’t answer. Real smooth Derek Hale, real smooth. “So what are you doing here alone on a Saturday night?”

 

“I got sexiled from my own apartment. Scott has a hot date so I had to make myself scarce.”

 

“From the whole apartment? Couldn’t he just stay in his own room?”

 

“I know!” Stiles cries sitting up a little straighter. “But this is a new girl and a new place so he has to impress her or whatever it is he does. Hence me here, at a bar, scraping the bottom of the barrel by talking to you.”

 

Derek snorts, looking around the bar. He looks at one of the guys at the end of the bar, clearly in his late forties, early fifties, thick rimmed glasses and a hideous sweater-vest that went out of fashion in the eighties. He’s probably married, _unhappily_ married and looking for some action on the side. Derek nods his head towards the guy and says, “maybe I’ll leave you to it with him if you consider talking to _me_ scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

 

“Okay, so you’re like one step up from him,” Stiles concedes. “But this still isn’t that I had in mind for my first full weekend in LA.”

 

Derek calls the bartender over when he notices that Stiles has hit the bottom of his glass and orders another drink for Stiles - whatever it was he was actually drinking - and another bottle of beer for himself. Stiles looks startled but doesn’t reject the drink, instead mutters thanks as he takes a sip. 

 

“What are you doing here anyway, on your own?” Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. Derek thinks shit, he’s figured it out but then soon enough Stiles’ eyes are just plain curious, not suspicious.

 

“Been a long week at work, needed to blow off some steam.”

 

“No offence dude but this doesn’t look your kind of joint.”

 

“Doesn’t look like your kind of joint either,” Derek counters. 

 

“My defence is I don’t know this area that well so I stopped at the first bar I passed. Yours?”

 

“Wanted something different,” Derek shrugs lying so smoothly. 

 

“See anything that interests you then?” Stiles asks turning around in his seat to survey the entire bar before he settles back into his stool. “I take you for the kind of guy that goes for a chick in a leather jacket, thigh-highs and a total badass. Only housewives and probably highly paid escorts here.”

 

Derek hates that Stiles has hit right on the nail with that one, the description of the kind of woman Derek would go for. His thoughts flash back to Kate Argent - the very definition of a badass and not at all in the good way. “I have a vast taste. Someone’s already caught my eye anyway,” and there it is, Derek going for broke. His voice lowers, turning as husky as he can without sounding like a total idiot. He knows it’s worked on others, maybe it’ll work on Stiles?

 

“Oh?” Stiles asks raising his eyebrows turning to see who Derek’s talking about. Derek watches the changes in Stiles’ face, as his thought process works through it, that Derek is staring at _him_ and not someone else. “Oh,” Stiles squeaks in understanding. 

 

Derek doesn’t miss the way Stiles says ‘oh’ again, turning ever so slightly into Derek, probably subconsciously. Others probably wouldn’t have noticed it, it would look natural to anyone else but Derek’s looking for the signs, to see whether Stiles is interested in him or this whole this is a bust. Turns out Stiles _is_ interested. Derek doesn’t know whether he should be relieved that this is going to make his job that much easier or scared that he’s going to have to go through with this.

 

From there, Derek relaxes a bit more. Especially after a few beers, although it doesn’t actually do anything to him, it’s the idea that it’s working - like a placebo. He asks Stiles what he’s doing in LA since they already know that Scott’s going back to school. Stiles brightens up explaining that he graduated with a degree in criminology but his true passion is in forensics and ballistics. He blames it on his father always locking the gun away, gun safety 101 with a small curious kid in the house. Of course that just piqued Stiles’ interest even more. 

 

Stiles said when he saw the ad online for the position that he’d just apply, never thinking he’d get the job. When he got the interview, and then the job there was no way he could turn it down. Plus, it worked out that his best friend Scott was going back to school over here, so they could stay together. They were attached at the hip. Derek thought that could cause problems in the future if Scott ever caught on. 

 

And Jesus fucking Christ, does this kid talk a lot when you ask the right questions. He talks with such ease and animation. His arms flail about as he explains something, his eyes brightening up. The way he licks his lips every few minutes like he’s parched from talking so much, his pink tongue sliding along his lower lip as if it’s nothing. Derek gets distracted the way Stiles’ long fingers curl around the glass, long deft fingers. Then his mind wanders to if Stiles uses those hands to _kill_ whether they can wrap around someones neck and take a life away.

 

He was after all going into forensics. He would have first hand knowledge on how crime scenes work, on how to hide evidence so that he doesn’t get caught. It could just be a coincidence or it could be a conscious thought on Stiles’ part. Like working on the inside - a dirty cop - given Stiles’ future line of work he could prove to be quite a valuable asset to many criminals. 

 

Derek’s mind kept chaining between, this kid isn’t the criminal, the one killing people, to it makes sense, that he _could_ be a part of it. He thought he’d get to go to Chris Argent on monday and tell him this idea is stupid, Stiles isn’t a part of it, Scott isn’t a part of it. Now he’s not so sure and he hates that he has to continue with this, doesn’t want to waste his _personal_ time getting to know Stiles when he could be doing something else. But he also won’t forgive himself if more dead bodies pile up and Stiles is the one responsible.

 

By the end of the night - or rather early morning - Stiles is farther off his barstool leaning in towards Derek and now it’s not subconscious - Stiles is totally doing it on purpose. So it’s not a surprise when they pay the tab that Derek asks for Stiles’ number. His long fingers slide into his pocket and takes his cellphone out sliding it across the bar to Derek. Derek enters his number quickly, sending a text to himself to save the number. 

 

He watches as Stiles hails a taxi down, getting into and waving to Derek. Stiles is definitely interested if the way he’s looking at Derek through the window is anything to go by. Derek raises hand in a short wave before he walks back towards his car. All in all, it’s been a good night. Now he just needs to figure out whether Stiles really is responsible. 

 

When Derek gets home, he heads straight for the shower, hating the smell of other people on him. There’s traces of Stiles’ scent on him, but soon that washes away down the drain as well. It’s not much, just a hand on his arm, on his shoulder. Derek just hopes he’s not going to get himself in too deep with this. He doesn’t want to have to explain his situation to anyone else, especially not his family. The only ones that can know about this are the people he works with.

 

**

“How’d the date go?” Stiles asks through a yawn. He’s running his hands through his air, getting the sleep out of his eyes. Scott is sitting at their tiny kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal, a mug of coffee in front of him. Stiles is happy that he’s drilled it into his best friends head by now after years of living together, that when Scott makes coffee, he makes enough for _everyone_ he lives with. There’s still coffee sitting in the pot, enough for Stiles. “You better have at least gotten lucky since I was so ungraciously kicked out of here.”

 

“I didn’t sleep with her! It was the first date,” Scott gasps like the thought of sleeping with someone on the first date is such a bad idea. It’s not like they both haven’t done it before. Stiles points that much out. “Well, she didn’t seem like that. I maybe want this to actually go somewhere rather than just a one night stand. We made out though,” Scott grins his spoon halfway to his mouth. He looks fucking elated, and it’s adorable. So long as Allison doesn’t stomp on his heart. Because that’ll make for awkward run ins outside the house.

 

“You dog,” Stiles punches Scott’s shoulder sitting down across from Scott pouring cereal in to his own bowl.

 

“She knows I’m a werewolf,” Scott blurts.

 

“Oh my God, you don’t think you could have lead with that?” Stiles screeches throwing his hands up in the air. Scott’s been on a few dates with woman, never telling them he was a werewolf. It’s not something you exactly lead with on a first date, only telling someone when you get really serious. 

 

“She just kinda eyed me and I started freaking out thinking I had lettuce in my teeth or something and then she said you’re a werewolf aren’t you? Like it was plain as fucking day!”

 

“How did she know?”

 

“She said something about a family business. Something or other. She said my nose twitched and that’s how she knew.”

 

Stiles doubles over in a fit of laughter. Because Stiles has fucking seen Scott when Scott twitches his nose picking up on a smell. To most it’s not very noticeable but Stiles notices a lot about Scott since they’ve known each other for so long. Apparently Allison can pick up on it pretty quickly. 

 

“What did you end up doing last night?” Scott asks ignoring Stiles’ loud laughter. “I hope it wasn’t too bad. I texted you when Allison left saying you could come home but by the time I passed out you still weren’t home.”

 

“I”m glad you had no trouble falling asleep while I was aimlessly wandering around LA. I could have been kidnapped again for all you knew,” Stiles retorts. Scott looks sheepish again, apologising and Stiles feels bad, so he’ll let him off the hook. 

 

“I actually ran into Derek - the guy from the agency - at the bar and we started talking. I may have gotten his number.”

 

“What!” Scott screeches his spoon clattering to the table. “The very one that _kidnapped_ us and interrogated us for the entire night. How the hell could you get his number and already be on first name basis with him? He looks like a murderer with those eyes and that beard.”

 

“You know me and beards,” Stiles shrugs. “It’s not as if we were ever charged with anything anyway and Derek never brought up what happened so it’s done and dusted with. Besides he was off-duty, agents are allowed to have a life.”

 

“I know that,” Scott grumbles. “Just not a life with my best friend.”

 

“Aw bud you’re so cute when you get protective of me,” Stiles grins. “But I can hold my own and don’t think I won’t keep my eye on Allison either.”

 

“Shut up,” Scott laughs tossing a soggy Cheerio at Stiles’ head. 

 

**

Finally, all Sunday Derek gets the day to himself. Although he lives in Downtown LA, right in the middle of the art district - and in Derek’s defence he didn’t do his research before he chose his apartment in the middle of the hipster district - he still has the sense of being in the middle of the city and also away from the city. It was a perfect balance, which explained why he didn’t hassle moving to get away from all the hipsters despite his family running a business that dealt with weird, abstract objects and furniture. 

 

It’s a decent sized loft with concrete walls with exposed air vents up above on the high ceilings. The kitchen is tiny, with dark wood and stainless steel appliances but it’s large enough for just himself. There’s not much in his bedroom, the walls the same white it was when he moved in. He only has a bed and a bedside table in his room, with the large windows looking out towards downtown LA. There’s even a rooftop pool and gym. He’s only ever used the gym, which is where he is right now.

 

While most people would relax on a Sunday, Derek prefers to go to the gym and work off his steam. It’s his current version of having sex, since he isn’t currently getting in. He runs until he knows his legs should start hurting if he were human, lifts a few weighs before giving up because he doesn’t actually want any more muscles. When he’s done he goes back to his loft and showers in his own bathroom - hates the smell of sweat and other gross bodily functions in the public showers at the gym.

 

By Monday morning he’s a lot more relaxed for work. He know his day of rest yesterday is going to be shot the minute he walks into the office, when he has to go back to the debriefing room and tell everyone about what happened Saturday night, even if not much _had_ happened. 

 

As to be expected Chris and Kate aren’t in the debriefing room yet, but the minute Derek strolls in Erica sits up in seat, her eyes just too excited for this early in the morning. It’s going to be a long ass day and he knows it. He walks past Erica, ignoring the question in her eyes and sits down, patting Isaac on the shoulder in greeting. 

 

Fortunately, Chris and Kate walk in a few seconds after Derek and Erica doesn’t get to ask the questions she wanted to. Instead, Chris asks them - at least it saves Derek having to repeat himself to Erica and Chris. 

 

“Did you get any information Saturday night?” Chris asks looking expectantly at Derek. Kate is smirking, her legs crossed at the ankles from where she rests against the wall. She pretends to inspect her nails but Derek knows she’s hanging on to every word Derek is about to say.

 

“No, it was one meeting,” Derek explains. “We talked, I figured out he has an apprenticeship at a ballistics firm but other than that I didn’t get anything.”

 

“A ballistics firm?” Kate perks up. “That could mean something, maybe working on the inside with someone,” and yeah thanks for that, like that thought hasn’t already crossed Derek’s mind. 

 

“Have you made plans to see him again?” Chris questions.

 

“No, but I got his number.”

 

Chris nods his head, sees Kate smile her evil grin and sees Erica perk up in hear seat. Erica is practically bouncing with the questions as if she’s about to erupt like a volcano if she doesn’t as them soon. 

 

“Keep on it,” Chris instructs.

 

When Chris moves on to other topics, other cases, Erica like a rebellious teenager rather than a grown adult twists around in her seat to look at Derek. Boyd begrudgingly turns his head as well. 

 

“Have you two slept together yet?” Erica whispers with so much glee. Erica is just as evil as Kate but where Derek loathes Kate now, he still loves Erica like a friend, like family - which is why he even puts up with her.

 

“It was one date,” Derek rolls his eyes. “And I’m not going to sleep with him, it’s business.”

 

“Date,” Erica smiles manically at Derek’s misuse of the word. 

 

“Meeting. One meeting and I’m still not going to sleep with him,” Derek corrects huffing. “So drop it.”

 

Erica shrugs and turns around, putting her arm around Boyd, running her fingers along Boyd’s shoulders. Ugh, couples. Isaac snorts as if he’s thinking the same thing and smiles at Derek trying to express without any words that he’s here for Derek. But Derek knows that Isaac can be just as much of a little shit as Erica when he wants to so he’s not holding out any hope that Isaac won’t bring up the subject at some point. 

 

When the debriefing meeting is over, Derek and Isaac make their way back towards their desks. Their desks are pushed together so that they face each other making it easier to pass paperwork or turn their computer screens around so that the other can see what’s been working on. They clear a space opening up the manilla envelopes and opening up old case reports trying to get a better idea about all the deaths and disappearances of the packs on the East Coast. 

 

Unlike the old days, it’s not only Alpha’s that can lead packs now. Sometimes, the second in command or well known prominent werewolves will lead their own pack so long as the betas are willing to follow. Now, it makes it harder to keep track of all the different packs and sub-packs. In the old days you heard a name and you knew instantly that they were a well established pack - much like the Hale’s in Beacon Hills. Now there were smaller packs trying to make a name for themselves. 

 

That’s exactly what was happening on the East Coast and the agency over there was having trouble keeping up with all the new packs that were popping up like flies. Some Alpha’s and prominent leaders of packs were showing up dead especially in New York but the stranger thing was that the rest of the pack ceased to exist. So there was no way to question them, figure out where they’re going it’s as if they’ve disappeared, which isn’t hard in New York. It’s easy to blend in with their surroundings in a city full of hundreds of thousands of people. 

 

Just like the victim at the club - Kali’s - their deaths looked like normal deaths. It never looked like another werewolf did it, ripping out throats. What all victims did have on the East Coast, was Wolfsbane in their system. They’d have to wait for the toxicology reports from their deceased laying in the morgue to see if he had Wolfsbane in his blood. Wolfsbane that could potentially match the one Derek found on Stiles’ body. 

 

“It just doesn't make sense, why would Stiles be involved?” Derek rubs his eyes. All the words on the files are starting to get jumbled and he has no idea how long he and Isaac have been looking over all reports. 

 

“Maybe it’s not just him, maybe Scott is the one involved but needs Stiles to carry out the kills?” Isaac supplies. “It’s not like Scott could handle the Wolfsbane, even if he wore gloves it could get through his immune system. He’d at least show some signs of Wolfsbane in his blood - besides the ones we use to get drunk.”

 

Derek nods his head trying to run through all the possible explanations. Soon they’ll need to write this all down on their large whiteboard so they can keep track of any suspects and possible explanations. 

 

“Maybe someone should keep an eye on Scott?”

 

“It’s too risky,” Derek shakes his head. “Even trying to talk to Scott outside of an interrogation room. Even if he doesn’t have an Alpha he’s not really an Omega either - he’s a strange case. We can’t risk it.”

 

It’s risky enough that Derek is ‘dating’ Stiles for lack of a better word. If Scott even suspects what Derek is doing, it could end really bloody and Derek doesn’t want to walk into a fight if he can help it. For now, Derek and Isaac will keep an eye on the two but they’ll also have to pursue other suspects - it only makes sense.  


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles is currently sitting down in his brand new cubicle desk that’s already filled with photos of him and his dad or him and Scott and a few other knick knacks and action figures, filing paperwork. This is _not_ what Stiles expected when he started his apprenticeship, it’s been almost a week and all he’s done is gotten a tour and then been given paperwork to sort or photocopy. If that’s all he’s going to get to do he could have stayed at the police department with his father like when he was in high school.

 

When is he going to get fire some guns at the range and compare the shell-casings? That’s where his interest really lies. But when he’d complained to his dad - and he already should have known that was a stupid move - his dad scolded him telling him that Stiles had to pay his dues. It was almost a three year apprenticeship to learn everything before he got to work on his own - filing out paperwork for a week was minuscule in the grand scheme of things. 

 

His phone vibrates on his desk and he doesn’t even care if it’s a spam text message telling him he’s won a million dollars or entitled to some sort of insurance claim, so long as he gets the distraction. He peeks his head over the cubicle walls to see if anyone is even paying attention to him - they’re not - so he picks his phone up, unlocking it and reads the text. 

 

**From: Derek Hale**

 

**You free tonight? Dinner?**

 

**To: Derek Hale**

 

**Sure.**

 

Derek texts Stiles back almost immediately, an address to a restaurant and a time to meet up. Stiles’ day has just gotten better, humming to himself as he finishes his paperwork. He hasn’t seen Derek since that first night at the bar, only texting a few times but now he finally gets to see Derek - and it’s well earned after a hard week of repetitive paperwork. 

 

When Stiles gets home that evening, Scott isn’t back from class yet so after he showers and changes, like a good roommate he texts his best friend where he is and leaves a sticky note on the fridge just in case. He’ll ignore his phone after that because the last thing he needs is Scott asking - yet again - if it’s a good idea that Stiles see the guy who arrested and almost charged them. 

 

**

“It’s been over a week Derek, you need to make some plans with Stiles,” Erica points out clearing a spot on Derek’s desk so she can hop on it like the nuisance she is.

 

“He can text me,” Derek points out even though he knows it’s a lame excuse. “Lay off.”

 

“Can I just point out that it’s either me on your back, or Kate on your back,” Erica nudges Derek’s thigh with her bright red combat boots. “And Kate’s more likely to get _on_ her back for you, rather than get on your back. If you catch my drift.”

 

“The whole office catches your drift,” Isaac snickers looking around the open-concept office as other agents milling around are pretending to do their work and not eavesdropping. 

 

Derek mutters something that his mother would scold him for saying in front of a lady under his breath as he pulls his phone out and texts Stiles. Erica and Isaac ‘ooh’ when it takes only a few minutes for Stiles to reply. 

 

He sighs, giving them the middle finger and goes off to find Boyd. Boyd who’s probably hiding in the supply closet pretending to look for pens so that Erica didn’t drag him over to Derek’s desk to bother him. Boyd knows how to give just as good as he gets, but he’s the more quiet type to do it so subtly and when everyone leasts expects it. At least thus far, he’s yet to make a crack about Derek having to date a potential suspect and that’s something in Derek’s book.

 

Boyd _is_ in the supply closet. Stocking up on pens and sticky notes. Derek can’t help but snort at the predictability of Boyd but Derek figures he’d do the same thing if he dated Erica. 

 

This time, Derek’s the one that’s at the restaurant first. Instead of sitting down and letting the waitress bring Stiles over when he gets there, Derek waits at the little podium at the front waiting for Stiles to show up. 

 

He’s only a few minutes late when Derek sees Stiles walk in through the door. He’s dressed up nicely but not over dressed like he’s trying too hard. He’s at least not wearing plaid, instead just a simple black button up shirt and that alone is a step up from his previous outfit choice at the bar. 

 

“Just because I agreed to this last minute dinner don’t think I’m always available,” Stiles jokes as the hostess leads them through the restaurant towards their table. Thankfully, they’re not given a booth in the corner like they’re on a romantic lovey-dovey date. Instead they sit at a table for two wedged between two other similar tables to theirs, people on either side of them. 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Derek replies dryly. 

 

Stiles talks. A lot. He’s quite in the beginning, just like he was at the bar but then after a few minutes as if he’s finished warming up to Derek, he’s on a roll. He talks all the while his eyes flicking through the menu while he’s trying to decide what he wants to eat. He takes a breath to order his food and drinks and then he’s back to talking. 

 

“I don’t believe in the whole not talking about politics on the first date idea,” Stiles says over his appetizer, bruschetta. “Well okay, maybe not the first date but by the second or third I want to know, you know? The last thing I want is to be dating a guy and then realise that although he’s gay or bi or whatever he doesn’t actually believe in gay marriage or pro-choice.”

 

“Should I be waiting for a questionnaire to fill out?” Derek raises his eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. He doesn’t care that he’s at a fancy restaurant he’s still going to drink his beer. He hates the taste of wine or champagne. At least Stiles didn’t look at Derek like he was crazy when he ordered his beer and Stiles ordered some fancy drink he can’t even pronounce. 

 

Stiles tilts his head from side to side like he’s thinking. “Are we counting the first time you arrested me as our first date?”

 

Stiles is smirking and definitely said that a little _too_ loud when the couple beside them stop their conversation mid-sentence to look at them in horror. Derek looks at the patrons with hard eyes until they realise they’re being rude and return to their own conversation, or at least try to. 

 

“Or,” Stiles continues. “Are we counting the bar as a date. Because that either makes this our second or third date.”

 

“I didn’t arrest you,” Derek argues, but it’s a moot point. “That definitely wasn’t a date.”

 

“Then you’re off the hook from my political questionnaire for now.”

 

Derek shakes his head but starts to dig into his steak when the waitress brings their main meal. It’s a good steak, really good, and Stiles hums his approval at his own meal. For the _most_ part food keeps Stiles quiet for a short time at least. Unless he remembers something and then starts talking with food in his mouth and Derek internally cringes. Talking with food in your mouth is not cute, especially when you can hear teeth hitting teeth when you chew or the spit moving around in someone’s mouth. It’s a thousand times worse when you’re a werewolf with super hearing. 

 

Somehow they move on to trading horror stories about their exes. Derek tactfully doesn’t mention Kate because quite frankly it’s just a mood ruiner. Not that talking about his other ex back in Beacon Hills isn’t any less depressing but hey, it’s easier to talk about that. 

 

“And then Tadd wanted to be in a relationship with me and this girl Colette. I thought he was just being a douche and wanted the best of both worlds, you know, not be exclusive - which he could just have asked, but no. He honest to God wanted a polyamorous relationship. It just wasn’t my thing so six months in we broke up.” 

 

“I don’t think I’d be down for that either,” Derek supplies.

 

“Not if you’re anything like Scott,” Stiles snorts. “His little werewolf senses get all possessive of his girlfriends. It’s kind of adorable once you get used to it.”

 

“Werewolves do have a tendency to be more possessive,” Derek answers quietly. “But I also do know some who are in to open relationships.”

 

“Preference I guess,” Stiles shrugs. 

 

When they’re finished their meal, Stiles makes a move to get his wallet but Derek waves his hand telling Stiles to put his wallet away. When Stiles asks a million times if he’s sure, Derek says he is. It’s not like Derek can tell Stiles that the agency has given Derek money for this date so it’s not actually coming out of his own pocket.

 

They’re walking towards their respective cars and Stiles is leaning against his car looking at Derek.

 

“I had a good time, thanks,” Stiles admits.

 

“Good, I’m glad. Me too.”

 

Derek watches as Stiles smiles at him and when he pushes off the car Derek thinks he’s going to make a move to kiss him, but instead Stiles is getting his keys out of his pocket and unlocking his car door. When Stiles gets in he waves, and Derek walks back towards his own car.

 

Logically, Derek knows that if he has to continue this fake dating thing then he and Stiles will have to kiss. But he’s sure as hell going to put it off as long as he possibly can. He just needs to shut this case down and soon so that he can ditch Stiles. 

 

There’s only so long you can ‘date’ someone and get away with not kissing them before it becomes awkward and obvious. 

 

**

Stiles takes it upon himself to start texting Derek now. He’ll text him throughout the day when they’re both at work and bored. Just silly things like asking what Derek’s doing? Or Stiles’ eyes have gone fuzzy from staring at paperwork all day. Or that Stiles is going to get to fire a gun next week and actually start doing what his apprenticeship is about. 

 

Every time Derek’s phone buzzes and he’s at work, around Isaac, Erica or Boyd they give him a knowing look. The only people that text Derek are his sisters, or the people he’s currently with. Isaac, Erica and Boyd sure as hell aren’t texting him when they’re in the same office and when Derek’s sisters text him he usually avoids answering them straight away.

 

So, they know it’s Stiles. They know that Derek is texting back Stiles as soon as an incoming message comes through and they give him these knowing looks with waggling eyebrows or suggestive winks - the winks are all Erica. 

 

Derek tells himself he’s doing his job, that’s all. So it makes it easier to ignore his friends as he texts Stiles back. 

 

**

It’s a Thursday and Derek is just chugging along the work week waiting until the weekend when he can relax. There’s been no more suspicious deaths since the first one at the club and the only thing Derek’s been dealing with all week is idiot werewolf teenagers and other mythical creatures getting themselves into trouble. When, in reality their parents should be dealing with the shit they get themselves into - the agency does.

 

Who decides that trying to set off fireworks with just magic was a good idea? Apparently teenagers do because they try and fail. Instead all the fireworks started going crazy, shooting off in different directions and setting the grass and twigs on fire. Not only was the fire department called but so was SMEA to cover up what happened. Derek’s job is _not_ to babysit and yet he feels like that’s all he does sometimes.

 

Derek gets a text from none other than Stiles, and this time Stiles has planned the date. He tells Derek to clear his schedule for Saturday night and tells him where they should meet up. Derek tries not to roll his eyes so hard that they roll to the back of his head when he sees where they’re meeting. On the bright side, it’s a public place so it’s easier not to get all romantic. 

 

Unsurprisingly he gets there before Stiles which seems to be the way it goes with Stiles, Derek has learned. He walks up and down the Santa Monica Boardwalk in front of the restaurant, Big Dean’s Oceanfront Cafe like a loner waiting for Stiles. The cafe looks old and jam packed this late at night, with people wanting some beer and food after a long day out along the pier. 

 

He spots Stiles walking towards him a few seconds later, dressed in a pair of jeans, converse and a black t-shirt that says ‘Mostly Human’ in large yellow funky text with the smaller word ‘Mostly…’ written farther down on his shirt. Derek snorts as he sees Stiles’ smirk knowing that Derek read the shirt. He maybe reads a little _too_ much in to it, is Stiles really something else, magical? Was Chris right and Stiles _does_ have a spark that could be used for all the murders that occurred? He forgets about it when Stiles breezes up to him and says hey. 

 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Stiles pokes Derek in the chest. “I’m new to LA and I don’t have a tour guide so I have to take it upon myself to see everything LA has to offer. So, we start at the Santa Monica Pier.”

 

“You do realise I’m not actually from LA either. I don’t know how well of a tour guide I’ll be,” Derek counters falling to step beside Stiles as Stiles walks off in a random direction down the boardwalk. It’s basically just code for Derek is a lazy bone who avoids tourist attractions at all costs. He has no interest in going on the Superstar Celebrity Homes Tour (because the last thing he would want if he were ever famous - for some weird reason - is people camped outside his house). All things considered though, going to a pier even if it is really busy, is the lesser of two evils. 

 

“Well then, a new experience for the both of us.”

 

They walk up and down the pier, looking in the little stores that try and sell caps and t-shirts with silly slogans on it - which attracts Stiles’ attention more than it does Derek’s - and then at some of the games and bars. They pass a few bars with live music and they stop outside for a few minutes, listening to the beat of the music, trying to decide if it’s worth their time to go in. 

 

Then, they pass the Trapeze area where Stiles stops to watch as a girl gets ready to jump. They watch as she gets strapped in, double checked for safety and then propels off the the ledge, screaming in delight as she swings backwards and forwards. The instructor is yelling at her to try and get her legs up and over the bar so she can hang from her feet. She manages to get her feet over the bar but when she tries and lets her hands go she falls, bouncing on the mesh netting that catches her below.

 

Stiles looks at the girl who’s still bouncing on the netting that caught her and then looks at Derek, smiling like a loon. Derek doesn’t know Stiles all that well, but he’s starting to get a better understanding of him and Derek does not like that smile, not one bit. 

 

“Not a chance in hell.” Derek bites out before Stiles can even open his mouth.

 

Stiles gasps in fake disappointment then looks back at the trapeze area. “Party pooper. I’ll break you down eventually, don’t worry.” But then Stiles is grabbing Derek by the forearm - Derek does a double take at where Stiles’ long fingers are wrapped around his forearm but he doesn’t shrug Stiles off - and lets himself be led away to the next main attraction.

 

They finally settle on the aquarium, it’s something they both agree on and it doesn’t involve Derek leaping off of a ledge to his death. He doesn’t care if he’s strapped in to anything, his feet will stay planted firmly on the ground. The aquarium is pretty empty since it’s getting later in the night, which is a nice change from the crowds on the pier. Stiles oohs and awes as they watch sharks swim by over their heads as they walk through the tunnel. 

 

Derek spends more time watching Stiles, the way his eyes widen when an animal swims right by their faces. He watches the way Stiles points his long fingers, jabbing at the plexi-glass like that will get the attention of the sea animals. Or the way Stiles neck elongates in his thin t-shirt when he turns his head up to look at the animals over the tunnel, the way the moles seems to disappear down his neck, hidden by his t-shirt. Or the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the tendons in his neck startlingly obvious. 

 

He snaps out of it when Stiles declares that he’s hungry and they should go find something to eat - besides it’ll probably take them another half an hour to agree on where to go. They both walk by a Bubba Gumps and say they should go there - laughing at the fact that they both agreed on where to eat so easily. It’s just as busy in there but they get a table outdoors along the pier looking out into the water and despite the cool breeze it’s nice to be outside. 

 

Stiles orders the Shrimper’s Net Catch, where the shrimp is steamed in beer and drowned in garlic butter. Derek orders Baja Shrimp Tacos and they both get a beer. Seafood is undoubtedly one of the unsexiest foods to eat on a first date. There’s no way to eat it tactfully other than to just dig in with your hands and have the garlic sauce drip down your fingers and down your chin. It may be the unsexiest but it’s also a bitch to have to watch the way Stiles’ pink tongue peeks out of his mouth to try and catch the sauce running down his chin or the way he puts his whole finger in his mouths getting the last of the sauce on his tongue - instead of wiping it on a napkin like a normal person.

 

It’s worse when Stiles hands Derek some of his shrimp, because the bucket is _huge_ and if he eats it all on his own he’s going to get gout. Derek finds himself thinking he’d rather lick the sauce off of Stiles’ fingers for him than eat the damn shrimp. But they’re in public, and goes against the rules he set out for himself, so instead he takes the offered shrimp and gives Stiles some of his taco. 

 

The fact that Stiles put so much away at dinner, Derek never thought he’d order dessert as well. He was wrong. Stiles orders a sampler dessert that has three different ones so that they can both have something. 

 

“Where do you even put it all.” Derek mutters under his breath, not thinking Stiles would hear.

 

“My dad says the same thing,” Stiles chuckles as he tucks in to the biscuit covered in strawberries. “I’ve always had a fast metabolism I guess? I got a bit of a pouch back in New York when I was so focused on school work. Then Scott made us go to the gym for a few months, after I lost the pouch I abandoned the gym like the plague. I bet you go to the gym all the time,” Stiles waggles his eyebrows at Derek.

 

“I do not,” Derek huffs but looks out onto the water and Stiles cackles because he knows he was right. Derek doesn’t actually have to go to _any_ gym because he has one at his apartment so he considers that a difference. Semantics.

 

When the bill comes, Derek goes to take it but Stiles - surprisingly quick for a human (yet to be determined) - snatches it out of Derek’s grip. Stiles fishes out his credit card from his wallet and puts it over the bill so that Derek can’t see how much it was and Derek doesn’t try and peek. He appreciates that Stiles wants to pay for the date, understands that most couples - _real_ couples on dates do that - but he has money burning a hole in his pocket from the agency that he’s supposed to use for this very reason. 

 

The walk back to the parking lot is quite - but not awkward - they get to Stiles’ car, Derek ready to say goodbye before he goes in search of his own car. This time, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to lean in those few inches that lay between him and Derek, placing his lips against Derek’s. It’s slow-mo for Derek, he can see it happening, see the way Stiles takes a deep breath and then moves in. He knows he has enough time to pull back, to get away from the kiss or turn his head for the awkward kiss on the cheek. 

 

But Stiles, looks _good_. Even in a stupid t-shirt and jeans, it’s good. It’s not like he’s trying to hard to impress Derek with anything fancy it’s as if he’s just being himself and Derek likes that. He even smells good despite the amount of garlic he just consumed, but the underlying smell, the _Stiles_ smell that’s unique to just him smells intoxicating. Derek also has the case to think about, can’t let it get blown out of the water all because he turned his head away from the kiss.

 

Instead of pulling back, Derek leans those few inches closer to Stiles, meeting him halfway. He kisses Stiles, opening up that little bit, taking a step forward so Stiles has to take a step back, Stiles’ back hitting the front door of his car. Derek opens up, letting Stiles’ tongue slip into his mouth. His hand comes up to cradle Stiles’ neck and he gets lost in the kiss, the way Stiles’ lips feel against his, the _nosies_. 

 

All too soon it seems like Stiles is pulling away, his lips a little more red than they were before and he’s smiling - not a smirk this time - but a content smile. 

 

“Night,” Stiles says breaking the silence and looking down at his shoes as if now he’s going to be coy. Derek once again waves to Stiles goodbye, but this time he feels like an idiot waving as Stiles drives away, given what they were just doing against Stiles’ jeep. 

 

Derek gets into his own car in a bit of a daze like he’s running on autopilot. He can still taste Stiles on his lips, taste the garlic and Stiles, can remember the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat as it picked up, the way his hands felt around Stiles’ neck, feeling the pulse. It shouldn’t have been so intoxicating, but it was and he doesn’t know how much longer he would have kept kissing Stiles if he were given the chance, if Stiles hadn’t pulled away. 

 

But then he remembers the way Stiles looked when he pulled away, his plump lips, hazy eyes and that satisfied smile on his face, like that’s all he needed all night. Stiles was clearly taking it slow, pulling away from the kiss and saying goodnight instead of ‘come back to my place?’ but where Derek was supposed to be the one taking it glacial slow he wanted nothing more than to push Stiles up against the car and keep kissing him. 

 

He has to remind himself, shaking himself out of his daze as he pulls in to his apartment parking space, that he hasn’t had sex in a while. He hasn’t slept with anyone since he stopped fucking Kate. Kate was selfish in bed, always wanted it about her and her climax that Derek never really got much enjoyment out of it. It was natural that he would be horny. It’s totally natural that the feel of Stiles against his body was enough to get his blood pumping. 

 

**

A trap was what it was. Derek should have known better than to think he could go to Isaac’s house for a nice relaxing dinner without being bombarded with questions. Isaac’s house is located in the Hollywood Hills, which Isaac wouldn’t have been able to afford on his salary at the agency but the house was foreclosed, and his parents and brother are dead, which happened to leave him with a generous sum of insurance money. 

 

Unlike most people Isaac’s age, he didn’t spend all the money buying a fancy car or a yacht, on expensive lavish vacations or party the money away. Instead he invested it in the foreclosed Spanish style family house. It’s not humongous, but it was 3 bedrooms and nearly 90 years old with a separate lower level mother in law suite. Cora - Derek’s younger sister who followed him out to LA - currently resides in said mother in law suite. That was _after_ she tried living with Derek and they were at each other’s throats at every opportunity.

 

For the sake of Derek and Cora still talking to each other, they had to live separately. Besides, Derek liked having his own space to come home to at night. 

 

Isaac, Derek, Boyd and Erica are all lounging in Isaac’s family room just about to tuck into their Chinese food when Isaac has to ruin what could have been a perfectly good night. Or, at least as close to one Derek could have when hanging out with his supposed friends.

 

“So, how is it dating the convict?” Isaac smirks over his egg fried rice.

 

“It’s not serious,” Derek huffs ignoring the glares from everyone in the room and focuses on his spring roll. 

 

Naturally, things get worse when Cora decides to walk into the house. She’s just finished her day shift at the bar - Kali’s - doing inventory. She perks up at the sight of food and grabs a fortune cookie, eating her dessert before her dinner.

 

“Who are you talking about? What’s not serious?” she plops down next to Isaac kicking off her shoes, tucking her legs underneath her.

 

Derek tries to protest, to get everyone to shut the fuck up before they open their big mouths and explain everything to Cora, but Isaac beats him to the punch. “Stiles and Derek. That guy that was a suspect in the death at your bar, Derek’s dating him.”

 

“Really? That scrawny, pale kid? I remember serving him at the bar that night. Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?” Cora scrunches her face up. 

 

“You have no idea,” Isaac snorts and that’s when Derek decides that his spring roll would be better served if it were flying at Isaac’s head. 

 

“Can we just forget about this please?” Derek mumbles getting up to grab a beer.

 

Cora doesn’t know that Derek’s been asked to go undercover and date Stiles to see if it’s even true, that he’s involved in the mysterious deaths. The less people that know the better, and if Cora knew, then the whole word will know and all his work will have been moot. 

 

Cora shrugs taking more of her share of food having grown tired of the subject already. 

 

Besides, Derek won’t let it become a conflict of interest - his ‘dating’ Stiles - so it’s not like anyone even has to worry.

 

“You’re our only source of gossip and entertainment these days,” Erica points out. 

 

“Isaac has a late night booty call, that’s gossip enough,” Derek deflects. 

 

Fortunately, their conversation veers off on a different path and the topic of Derek and Stiles doesn’t come up again. He knows he’s dodged a bullet tonight but that doesn’t mean they won’t bring it up again in the future. After all, his friends do love to torture him. He’s not even sure why he calls them friends or hangs out with them outside of work. Possibly one of the worst decisions he made, after sleeping with Kate, of course.

 

**

Stiles gets a text on a Monday telling him that Derek has a date planned for that Wednesday evening. Just a simple date, dinner and a movie - but this time Derek will pick him up. It’s gone up a step now, not meeting each other at the venue but actually picking each other up, and the kissing. That was definitely a step up. 

 

It’s a typical date but Stiles doesn’t mind, it’ll serve as a test to see if Derek talks during movies, because that’s a no-go. Stiles is allowed to talk during movies though, to narrate what he’s read about in interviews or narrate his own thoughts but if anyone else dares to speak during a movie, Stiles flips his shit. Stiles doesn’t think Derek seems like the type to talk during a movie anyway, so that’s yet another point in his favour. 

 

Come Wednesday night, Stiles is just exiting his bedroom when he bumps into Scott in the hallway just coming back from class.

 

“Hey bud,” Stiles grins. “Apartment is all yours tonight if you want to invite Allison over. Go forth with the loud sex and not have to worry about whether I have headphones on.”

 

“I was just going to tell you the same thing,” Scott mirroring Stiles grin. “I have a date out tonight with Allison, so if you wanted the apartment to yourself or you know, invite Derek over.” Scott tries not to grimace as he says Derek’s name. Over the past few weeks Scott has grown accustomed to Stiles texting Derek when they’re at home, or going on dates with him. Scott’s almost moved past the part where he fucking arrested them. Stiles had said if he could get over it than Scott could too.

 

They both laugh and shake their heads. “Who would have thought that when we moved to LA we’d both actually have a social life and dates that don’t involve hanging out with each other and playing video games or going to frat parties?”

 

“I don’t think anyone thought it was possible Stiles,” Scott chuckles hurrying into his bedroom to get ready for his own date.

 

Dinner is nice, nothing that requires fancy dress. Instead it’s a dive Mexican restaurant that Derek found and it serves the best tacos Stiles has ever eaten. He makes a mental note of where this place is so he can bring Scott back here one day. They talk easily over their starter of complimentary nachos and salsa and their main meals. Derek pays for the dinner much to Stiles protests that they could at least pay half and half this time.

 

They see the newest action flick with Tom Cruise and although Stiles isn’t sexually attracted to Tom Cruise, he plays a fucking badass and the movie isn’t completely terrible. Derek doesn’t try any of the classic movie date moves. He doesn’t yawn to stretch his arms over the back of Stiles’ chair to get closer to him, their hands don’t randomly bump together when they both reach for popcorn, blushing and looking away. Nor do they take the opportunity to make out in the back of the theatre. 

 

Which, Stiles gets. Because he beat Derek to the punch and bought the movie tickets and he’s not going to spend close to $20 for _one_ ticket just to sit in the back and make out. No thanks, his money is hard earned and if he paid to see a movie he better get to watch the fucking movie. Now if they were at home and watching a movie on Netflix and decided to ditch it to make out on the couch, well that’s a different story. 

 

They do however, end up making out in Derek’s Camaro outside of Stiles’ apartment. It’s not all that comfy, with the car being tiny as it is, the stupid hand brake in the way of the two seats. But Stiles’ hand is resting on the middle console, Derek’s hand pulling Stiles’ shirt closer to him as they kiss each other, licking into each other’s mouth, nipping at lips. It’s a lot more dirty and heated than their first kiss, angling their heads to deepen the kiss. 

 

They’re both panting and flushed when they pull apart after Stiles kneed himself on the handbrake, pulling away swearing.

 

“You okay?” Derek asks, his voice pitched low and way too seductive for Stiles’ sanity.

 

“Fine,” Stiles sighs rubbing his hand over his knee. “You’d think the novelty of making out in a car would wear off after high school.”

 

“You’d think,” Derek smiles eyes tracking Stiles’ lips as he speaks.

 

Derek leans over, kissing Stiles again. Slower this time but just as heated, just as amazing. He bites down on Stiles’ lower lip, grins when Stiles pulls away. Stiles can feel his heart beating out of his chest so he’s under no illusion that Derek can hear it as well, and probably notice that Stiles is half hard in his jeans. 

 

If Stiles bothered to inspect, he’d realise Derek is just as hard as well but Stiles doesn’t dare let his eyes roam down that far before his mouth follows. Sex in a car is definitely a novelty that wears off after the first time you’ve done it and realise how cramped it is. A charlie horse in the middle of sex isn’t sexy. 

 

“Night,” Stiles sighs like he’s reluctant to get out of the car, contemplating whether he should invite Derek in or not. He runs up the steps, gets the keys out of his pocket and unlocks his front door. Before he steps inside, he turns around to wave at Derek. 

 

Derek rolls down the window, waves and then speeds off. 

 

As far as dates go, that’s another success in Stiles’ book. He closes the door, leaning back against it willing his semi-hard cock to die down. Then he remembers that he has the house to himself, that Scott is out on his date with Allison. He might as well take advantage of having the house to himself, unzipping his pants as he heads to his room. 

 

He throws his shirt off and over his head, letting it fall on a pile of other dirty clothes, his jeans and boxers soon joining. He doesn’t bother turning on the light, flopping down on his bed, not bothering to get comfy by resting on the pillows. Instead he leaves his feet hanging hanging off the bed, planted on the ground and lays down perpendicular on his bed. 

 

He starts to jerk himself off slowly, getting himself fully erect. His other hand goes to his balls, massaging them between his fingers before he runs his hand up his abdomen, and over his nipples getting those hard too. It doesn’t take much longer before the pre come is dripping down his cock, slicking the way as he fucks up into his hand. 

 

He’s panting, his hips bucking up into his fist, coming with the image of Derek being there with him, hovering over him, using his hand to jerk him off. 

 

Yeah, definitely a good night.

 

**

When Derek gets home, he strips out of his clothes and steps into the steamy shower. He uses the soap to slick his cock as he strokes to himself, one forearm resting against the wall to steady himself. He pictures Stiles there with him, on his knees with Derek’s cock in his mouth. The way Stiles kisses him so earnestly, so openly and sloppy he just knows that Stiles would suck cock much the same. 

 

But Stiles isn’t there, and Derek only has his fist to work with. He fucks into his hands, letting the water cascade over his head and down his body. He clenches his eyes shut, picturing Stiles as he comes. 

 

He loathes himself as he washes the come off, letting it spiral down the drain before he washes over his entire body. He’s not supposed to be thinking about Stiles like that. So what if they kissed, and so what if Derek was hard. He could have pictured _anybody_ in there, in the shower with him. But his mind roamed to Stiles and that’s not what he wants. That’s not what’s supposed to happen.

 

**

“Good date with Allison last night?” Stiles asks the next morning over an early breakfast before they head their separate ways. 

 

Scott is pouring the cereal for the both of them as Stiles makes the coffee. They’re basically like an old married couple, right down to the sleeping in different beds and no sex. They have their chores and their routines that they stick too so they never clash when they’re trying to get ready, or eat the last of the food without replacing it. After so many years they’re like a well-oiled machine.

 

“Yeah,” Scott sighs dreamily. “Lydia slept at Jackson’s last night so I stayed over at Allison’s. You?”

 

“Nice,” Stiles fist pumps Scott, grabbing the two cups of coffee and taking them to the kitchen table. “Good, we went to a dinner and a movie.”

 

“That’s it?” Scott asks with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t invite him back here or he didn’t invite you back to his place?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“You’ve been on what four dates now? When you going to give it up? You never hold out this long.”

 

Stiles ignores the way Scott waggles his eyebrows trying to be sexy. Stiles hopes he doesn’t look like that when he does it, but he probably does. It’s not like he looks in the mirror and practices it.

 

“He hasn’t made a move,” Stiles shrugs. “But we’ve been having a good time so maybe soon? It’s not like subtly is my forte, I don’t know how to push it a little farther and see if he’s interested. I might as well just make a sign saying, ‘wanna have sex?’”

 

“It could work,” Scott grins and Stiles rolls his eyes at him. At least one of them is getting laid. But Stiles doesn’t want to have to live vicariously through Scott. 

 

After they’ve finished their breakfast and Scott is rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher (Stiles is the one that has to clear it out) Stiles jumps up on to the counter, his evil Grinch grin and place.

 

“I’m going to already regret this aren’t I?” Scott groans, shutting the dishwasher with a thump.

 

“We should totally go on a double date.”

 

“What?” Scott’s eyes widen. “I don’t know if Allison would be down for that anyway. Would Derek?” 

 

Stiles shrugs. “I’m not too sure, we’re still in the early stages of whatever this is. But it might help me realise if he wants to you know, move on to the whole sex thing.”

 

Scott looks as if he’s contemplating the idea when Stiles perks up again, jumping off the counter with an ah-ha!

 

“It wouldn’t be a double date if we just _happen_ to show up where you and Allison just _happen_ to be on a date would it?” 

 

“You’re insane,” Scott shakes his head leaving the kitchen.

 

“You’re more insane because you know you’re going to agree McCall.”

 

“I’m already regretting it,” Scott shouts from his bedroom.

 

Whatever, Stiles takes that as a success. Maybe if hanging out with Scott and Derek, Derek will see that the relationship (or whatever it is) is definitely moving in a _forward_ direction. Hopefully in the direction of a bedroom with a bed as well. Because man, it’s been a while since Stiles has gotten laid and he’d much prefer to sleep with Derek than a one night stand. 

 

**

For their next date, Stiles sends Derek a text suggesting they go to the bar where Derek first ran into Stiles, the Beaufort Bar. Derek doesn’t think much of it, figures Stiles just wants a night out so he agrees. 

 

Derek is surprised however, to see that Stiles is already standing outside the bar waiting for Derek to show up and that’s a first. Derek had expected to be the one waiting on Stiles, probably finding a seat inside at the bar. Pleasant surprise. 

 

Stiles also looks really good, Derek’s traitorous mind notes. He’s still not dressed fancy, but in everyday clothes and Derek is starting to think that the look really suits Stiles. Maybe those flannel shirts and stupid slogan t-shirt really do make Stiles looks good when on anyone else it would look like they were an immature adult. 

 

“Hey,” Stiles smiles, although looking a little nervous.

 

He leans in to peck at Derek’s lip and Derek finds he doesn’t mind, returning the peck before opening the door for Stiles. Small displays of affections are okay with Derek, making out in the middle of the street while groping each other - not so much. 

 

Once they’re inside, Stiles’ nerves spike for a second, before he perks up and veers off towards a booth table, where two people are already sitting. Derek can see the man, and instantly recognises  it as Scott from the night he brought Stiles and Scott in, but he can’t see the other person, clearly a woman with shoulder length brown hair. 

 

He watches as Scott gets up in greeting and smiles at Stiles, instantly freezing when the woman gets up from the booth smiling at Stiles. When the woman makes eye contact with Derek she freezes as well, her smile dropping off of her face. Allison Argent. As in Chris Argent’s daughter. His boss’ daughter. Here, on a date with Scott. Chris did _not_ tell Derek that he got Allison to date Scott, that was never in the plan. 

 

“Am I missing something?” Scott asks breaking both Derek and Allison out of their frozen state, their eyes moving away from each other. Allison smiles, her dimples showing and Derek panics. 

 

His mind flashes to Allison saying something. What if Allison wasn’t told to date Scott because of the deaths but they did just randomly meet? What if Allison knows what Derek’s doing and slips up and says something in front of Stiles and Scott. After all the work he put it, the whole operation could be blown with one slip of the tongue.

 

“Derek here works with my father,” Allison smiles.

 

“What a small world,” Scott laughs getting back in the booth and ushering Allison and the rest of them in. “We’re well acquainted with where your dad works actually.”

 

Allison giggles and they all order a round of drinks and some appetisers. 

 

Derek’s on edge the whole night, expecting Allison to say something but after their initial conversation Allison never brings up the agency again. Instead opting to talk about normal things, things that don’t involve work or school. Stiles is as animated as ever, trying to get Derek in on conversations, but Derek’s end of the conversations are stilted as he nods his head and answers questions when asked.

 

He feels Stiles’ eyes on him during the night, trying to silently ask if he’s alright but Derek smiles a tight smile and takes a sip of his drink. Stiles places a hand on Derek’s thigh, trying to reassure him the whole night but it only makes Derek tense though he doesn't think Stiles actually notices.

 

The few times that Derek _does_ try and make conversation, it’s because he’s trying to learn about Scott, see if maybe Scott will slip and say something about the deaths. He might even say it subconsciously without even realising it. But Scott seems just as clueless as Stiles does in regards to the deaths. Scott talks about his family, his school work, stupid shit he and Stiles used to get up too and how he met Allison because she lived next door. Not a single mention about the deaths or something that could point Derek in the right direction.

 

Derek’s only all too happy when the night is actually over and Scott and Allison are paying their half of the tab and saying goodnight and heading towards their car.

 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Stiles murmurs as they’re exiting the bar. “I had no idea you and Allison knew each other and it was kind of sprung on you. It must have been awkward.”

 

When Derek stops to look at Stiles, Stiles looks so fucking sincere that all the tension drains out of Derek’s body. Stiles’ hands are shoved in his pockets and his shoulders are slouched, knowing that tonight went in the completely wrong direction from where he wanted it to go. 

 

“It’s okay,” Derek finds himself saying, stepping closer to Stiles to reassure him. “I’m sorry I was a downer, I was just startled. I don’t know Allison that well outside of meeting her a few times with her dad.”

 

Derek tips Stiles’ chin up and leans in closer to kiss him. He doesn’t care that they’re on the sidewalk, just focuses on the way Stiles seems to melt into the kiss, Stiles’ own tension draining from his body. Derek has to admit tonight wasn’t a total failure, Allison almost certainly doesn’t know anything - or if she did she’s just as good as being undercover. 

 

Stiles looks a lot more pleased when Derek pulls away from the kiss and he thinks he smoothed out the nights mishaps pretty well. 

 

Derek’s reassured that the impromptu double date with Scott and Allison wasn’t a total disaster when Stiles texted him later that night saying good night with a winking face. In Stiles lingo (which Derek doesn’t even know how he’s grown accustomed to that too) means that everything is okay and Derek texted him back. They texted for a little while before they both finally fell asleep.

 

**

“Any updates for us Derek?” Chris asks the next morning in the debriefing room.

 

“Same thing I’ve been telling you all since the beginning,” Derek grumbles glaring at Chris and then Kate. “I don’t think Stiles or Scott are involved. They’re just young, having fun.” 

 

“Maybe,” Kate notes tapping her nails on the table. “They’re just waiting for you to get comfortable, and then they’ll start up the murders again. Or at the very least lead you to who is in charge of it.”

 

Derek doesn’t think that’s likely, says as much and hopes someone will agree with him. So of course Chris tells him to continue on with the investigation.

 

“We’re just wasting valuable time focusing on one suspect rather than looking for any others.”

 

“Derek, when you’re heading up your own team you can delegate how you see fit. Until then, you follow my orders,” Chris barks that brooks no room for argument.

 

So Derek has to continue dating Stiles and there’s no backing out of it. 

 

Chris packs up the other folders on his desk and leaves the room at the end of the meeting, Kate hot on his tail. Derek’s at least thankful that she doesn’t want to stick around and torture Derek. Just hearing her breathe at this point is getting on his nerves.

 

“Guess you’re not off the hook yet man,” Boyd says turning around in his chair to look at Derek. Isaac nods his head in agreement. 

 

“It can’t be that bad,” Isaac supplies thinking that it’s going to make Derek feel any better. 

 

Derek snorts crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at his friends. “Not that bad? Try having to go on a double date with Stiles, Scott and Allison.”

 

“Argent?” Erica perks up her eyes bugging out. “As in the boss’ daughter?”

 

“The one and only,” Derek huffs. 

 

“Chris is using his daughter to spy on Scott,” Boyd whistles. “I didn’t think she had anything to do with the family business.”

 

“Well that’s what I’m about to find out,” Derek retorts, uncrossing his arms, his palms resting on the desk as he pushes the chair back, scraping along the ground. He heads for the door, angrier than he’s been in a long while, in search for Chris Argent. 

 

Derek’s in a bad, bad mood. But he’s not so mad or so stupid as to just barge into Chris’ office without knocking. He stops his brisk pace and raps on the door three times, louder than probably necessary, but at least he didn’t just barge in, right? 

 

“Come in,” calls Chris’ voice from the other side of the door.

 

Derek throws the door open and is relieved to see that Kate isn’t in the room, probably having sauntered off somewhere to do God knows what. Chris is sitting behind his desk, looking over paperwork, but he looks as relaxed as ever whereas Derek feel so strung up. 

 

“What the hell is going on between Scott McCall and your daughter?” Derek practically yells as he shuts the door behind him to stop any nosy passerby’s trying to listen in. Most likely Erica if Derek’s being honest. 

 

“What?” Chris asks shocked, looking up from his paperwork. 

 

Derek snorts, can’t help it. “You haven’t noticed that a werewolf and his best friend, who also happen to be, under your discretion, the two main suspects in a murder, are living beside your daughter? Come on Chris why didn’t you just tell me you had your daughter working a case? She’s not an agent.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Chris says angrily standing up. He walks towards the window to look outdoors, his back to Derek. “I didn’t even know Allison was dating anyone. If you haven’t noticed her and I don’t have the best relationship. And I don’t have her working under the table, she wants nothing to do with hunting or the agency. I’d never put her in danger like that, telling her to date Scott.” 

 

“If she’s dating Scott anyway, can’t she be your eyes and ears for the case?” Derek asks but he knows it’s no use. Allison seemed to be genuinely in to Scott so there’s no way she’d agree to it. There’s also no way Chris would ask his daughter to do it, not when she’s not an agent. 

 

“I’m not going to put my daughter in that position, especially if Scott found out. I can’t even tell her to stop seeing Scott because it’ll only spur her on more. I know Allison can handle herself but you can handle yourself better in this situation. If an arrow or bullet hits her, she’s dead. Even if you got hit by an arrow or bullet laced in Wolfsbane you have a stronger chance of surviving.”

 

Derek curses under his breath, because he knows Chris is right. Even if Allison was willing to go undercover Derek wouldn’t want it. He’s heard about how badass Allison is, but at the end of the day she’s not an agent, she doesn’t carry a badge or have the back up that Derek does. He just wanted a way to get out of dating Stiles, get out of this situation before it gets too tricky and blows up in everyone’s face. 

 

He still firmly believes that Scott and Stiles aren’t involved though. So he doesn’t think Allison is any imminent danger, but when Chris asks Derek to look out for Allison, he says he will. For all he dislikes Chris sometimes and loathe Kate, Derek doesn’t know Allison that well but he still doesn’t want any harm to come her way. 

 

“What’s the deal?” Isaac asks when Derek returns to his desk.

 

Derek sighs sitting in his office chair, running his hands over his beard. He’s still strung up but a lot less than before now that he knows Chris didn’t put Allison in, under the table.

 

“She’s not involved,” Derek explains. “Just a coincidence she’s dating Scott. I have to keep on it with Stiles.”

 

“Maybe we’ll catch a break soon,” Isaac smiles timidly trying to cheer Derek up. 

 

Ironically enough, Derek gets a text from Stiles a few minutes later and that’s what cheers him up a little. 

 

**From: Stiles**

 

**I got to fire my first gun today at work!! We’re so going to the shooting range on our next date.**

 

Derek snorts, but smiles as he types his reply back out.

 

**To: Stiles**

 

**I’ve got a few years exp. on you.**

 

**From: Stiles**

 

**Pfft son of the sheriff here. Also #1 Auburn water gun champ.**

 

**To: Stiles**

 

**If I’m ever in a water gun fight I’ll make sure to call you.**

 

**From: Stiles**

 

**Your sarcasm is not needed Derek Hale.**

 

Derek snorts but covers it up when he looks up to see Isaac eyeing his suspiciously. Derek turns his phone off and pretends to flip through some of the paperwork on his desk. Derek knows that Isaac knows that he’s texting Stiles and smiling about it. That can only mean trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

“So I’m going home this weekend,” Scott announces over dinner. Stiles’ famous grilled cheese - and by famous he means he doesn’t burn it, too badly.

 

“Thanks for the invite man,” Stiles cries throwing the crust on his plate. “If I’d known you were planning on going home I would have come too, to see my dad.”

 

“You know, we don’t need to spend _all_ our time together,” Scott grins cheekily.

 

“I see you less than I did when we were in New York,” Stiles is not impressed. 

 

“I was also thinking that you’d want the house to yourself this weekend…” and that, well that sounds like a pretty fucking appealing idea the more Stiles thinks about it.

 

The house to himself, for the whole weekend. He can invite Derek over for dinner and…

 

“You’re a good friend,” Stiles beams giving Scott his other half of his sandwich in an apology.

 

“I know,” Scott grins stuffing the sandwich in his mouth without taking a bite. 

 

**

It must be some sort of special talent really, for Stiles to text Derek at every opportunity that he’s _not_ alone. Derek’s not even sure how everyone managed to invite themselves over to his loft for dinner, but here they all are.

 

**From: Stiles**

 

**Dinner this weekend?? At my house?**

 

Derek’s heartbeat must pick up, or his face turns a shade of red because everyone in the room stops what they’re doing and stare at Derek. He has another moment of panic because this will be the first time he’s actually going to Stiles’ house - and being invited indoors - not just to make out in his car in front of his house. His phones beeps again.

 

**From: Stiles**

 

**Scott’s gone for the whole weekend.**

 

And it can’t be _any_ more clearer than that. Stiles will have the house to himself and the first thing he does is invite Derek over. 

 

“Lover boy again?” Erica asks exasperated. 

 

“Are you two getting serious?” Cora perks up. “How come I haven’t met him yet, officially?”

 

Poor Cora, Derek thinks. She doesn’t know anything that’s going on and he doesn’t know whether he wants to tell her so she’ll get off of his back or keep her in the dark because he knows she’ll complain. He knows she’ll say that it’s a stupid idea and it’s going to get messy, and Derek doesn’t need a lecture. He already knows how messy it’s gotten already.

 

“No,” Derek answers Cora, despite the fact that he texts Stiles back okay.

 

Cora shrugs before she turns on the TV. “As long as I don’t have to walk in on you and the blonde bimbo I’m good.”

 

Erica snorts patting Cora on the leg. “That bimbo, Kate is long gone from the picture. Right?” Erica asks turning to Derek just to double check. Derek rolls his eyes at Erica but doesn’t answer. Kate is so far past the picture. 

 

Derek can’t panic now, not with his friends and Cora around. But going to Stiles’ house, for dinner, on the weekend, when the roommate isn’t there, it can only mean one thing right? It’s clearly going to lead to sex, it’s been more than a few dates now. He’s not stupid, he’s a grown adult and that’s what adults do a few dates in, have sex. He just needs to find a way to get out of it without hurting Stiles’ feelings and without fucking up the entire thing. 

 

Over dinner he wonders what excuses he can come up with to get out of it but still see Stiles. Boyd has to wave his hands in front of Derek’s face to break him out of his daze and actually participate in the conversation at hand. Derek had almost forgotten he even had any people over - as much as he wishes he was on his own right now.

 

Being around his co-workers and sister also doesn’t stop him from thinking about digging that nice purple Henley his mom gave him for Christmas a year ago that he hasn’t worn yet. Not that this ‘date’ with Stiles is serious nor is it progressing any farther. Derek just wants to look nice, and finally wear that shirt his mom gave him. So when she asks if he ever wore it he can say yes and she won’t pick up on the lie. That’s the only reason.

 

**

Derek pulls up to the curb outside of Stiles’ house - the spot where they had their heavy make out session - just before seven PM. He’s dressed in the purple v-shirt his mom gave him and a pair of nice jeans, on the tighter side but not so tight that you can see an outline of _anything_. He grabs the beer he brought out of the trunk and heads up to Stiles’ door.

 

He finds himself glancing at the other front door where presumably Allison lives. He hopes that she doesn’t see him entering Stiles’ apartment or know that it’s his Camaro sitting outside. Not like it’s a secret, considering the disastrous double date they went on but he’d still rather keep everything on the down low. It just makes it easier, less complicated and not such a messy web of lies that Derek feels he’s going to get tangled in to, any one of these days. He just needs to get out before that happens. 

 

Derek knocks on the door and when Stiles opens it, he takes a minute to appreciate Stiles. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and grey jeans that aren’t baggy and fit in all the right places.

 

“I brought beer,” Derek swallows bringing his eyes back up to Stiles’ face. Stiles’ face that’s smiling at him like he _knows_ Derek was checking him out. “I would’ve brought wine but I don’t like the taste so I wouldn’t know a good bottle from a bad bottle.”

 

Stiles laughs stepping away from the door to let Derek in. “It’s okay, I don’t mind beer.”

 

Derek takes off his shoes leaving them at the front door and follows Stiles farther into the house. Stiles give him the tour, at least the tour of the front of the house. Pointing to the family room, the dining room adjoined and then the kitchen just past it. It’s not large, but large enough for two people and Stiles and Scott seem to make it work.

 

“I ordered Italian, it should get here soon,” Stiles supplies putting the case of beer in the fridge to get cool, putting two in the freezer to get cold quicker.

 

“You’re not cooking for me?” Derek raises an eyebrow leaning against the counter. 

 

“I would have,” Stiles laughs throwing his head back. “But I want this night to go well, I don’t want either of us in the hospital from food poisoning. Besides less work, less clean up.”

 

“Good point,” Derek concedes. 

 

Stiles grabs two plates and some cutlery walking towards the little dining area, setting the table. It’s obvious that Scott and Stiles don’t normally eat at the dining table, if the stack of papers and textbooks tucked in the corner of the room by the wall are any indication. They probably use it more as an office or something but now Stiles wants to use it for something more fancy.

 

Derek would’ve been content just eating on the couch straight from the take out containers, maybe with the TV on. But it’s clear that Stiles is trying to be more grown up about it, more romantic rather than just two dudes eating dinner and watching a movie. So Derek goes with it, taking the cutlery from Stiles and setting it beside the plates that Stiles lays out. 

 

The food gets here and it smells heavenly. Stiles probably ordered more pasta than necessary with  tomato and pesto bread but they tuck into it, sipping their cool beer. The food is good though so there’s no complaints there and Derek finds the conversations between him and Stiles are becoming easier, talking about what they’re up to at work (and okay maybe that part isn’t so easy because Derek has to lie) but then when they talk about their day and stuff, it’s smooth sailing.

 

Soon, dinner is over and Stiles putting the leftovers in the fridge, throwing out the containers and Derek filling the dishwasher. Derek barely realises when they stopped clearing up and instead, are making out in the kitchen.

 

Stiles has Derek pressed up against the counter, his body plastered against Derek’s. Derek can feel the heat between the two of them, radiating through their layers of clothing. He can feel Stiles’ hands tentative on Derek’s waist, running his fingers in random patterns before digging in and pulling Derek closer - as if that’s even possible at this point. 

 

Derek finds his hands at the back of Stiles’ head, pulling him in closer. Taking turns between heated kisses, their tongues fighting their way into the others mouth and then pressing kisses against each others lips. Stiles moves to pull back and Derek makes a noise of protest but then he can feel Stiles’ fingers work their way into the waistband of Derek’s jeans and tugs.

 

Derek moves with Stiles, as Stiles walks backwards towards the other doorway in the kitchen that presumably leads to the bedrooms. Stiles stops outside of his closed bedroom door, Stiles’ back against the door, and pulls away from where he’s attacking Derek’s neck with kisses and licks to look at Derek.

 

Derek falters, his mind torn in two directions. Get out and get out _now_ or get in there, go in that bedroom. But then Derek takes in Stiles’ appearance. His hair is ruffled from where Derek’s had had his fingers, Stiles’ pupils are fully dilated, his lips red and cheeks even more red. Stiles is breathing hard but doesn’t say anything, just waiting for Derek to nod his head yes or pull away. Stiles is giving Derek the choice.

 

He wants to pull away but he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked just as messed up, just as ruffled and turned on as Stiles is right now. Derek already knows he’s half hard, knows Stiles is as well. It’s easy to feel the other start to harden when their bodies are pressed so close together. 

 

Derek reaches his hand around Stiles’ body, his hand resting on the doorknob and opens it. Stiles smiles and pulls Derek into the bedroom slamming it shut with a thud. Stiles pulls away from Derek, fumbling to get his own shirt off and turns on the bedside lamp. Derek takes the time to pull his own purple shirt over his head and drops it where Stiles’ lays abandoned. 

 

Stiles grabs a hold of Derek’s jeans again, unbuckling the belt and pulling it out of the loops, unbuttoning and unzipping Derek’s jeans. Derek steps out of them and that leaves him standing there in just his boxers. He hears Stiles groans, watches as Stiles eyes Derek’s boxers, the clear outline of his hardening cock through it.

 

“Fuck do you know how long I’ve been imagining this moment?” Stiles groans dropping to his knees. Derek figures it’s a rhetorical question so doesn’t answer, and it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t answer otherwise he would have made a fool of himself, his voice rising when he feels Stiles mouth at his boxers. 

 

Derek looks down to see Stiles on his knees, still in his own jeans but has his mouth over Derek’s clothed cock. Stiles runs his mouth along Derek’s boxers, up towards the waistband where his dick is starting to poke out. Stiles gently pulls the boxers down far enough so that they’re out of the way and closes his mouth over the head of Derek’s cock.

 

Derek grunts, stomach spasming as Stiles works his mouth over the head, sucking it and getting it wet. Stiles’ hand works the rest of Derek’s cock and it’s the best feeling ever. Derek’s mind jumps to the tight grip Stiles has on him, to the heat and the _wetness_ of Stiles’ mouth. 

 

“Get naked,” Derek tries to command but comes out in a half groan at feeling Stiles’ hands play with his balls. 

 

Stiles pulls back, taking one last look at Derek’s dick, placing a kiss to the head and stands up with a glint in his eyes. Stiles undoes his own jeans and gets rid of his boxers in one quick swoop. Derek takes the opportunity of a distracted Stiles to push at his chest until Stiles walks back towards the bed and falls on top of it, bouncing.

 

Stiles scrambles up the bed his forearms resting just below the pillows. His eyes watch the way Derek gets on the bed, crawling up Stiles’ body. Derek takes the opportunity to duck his head, start kissing and licking from Stiles’ belly button up to his chest. He runs his mouth over Stiles’ nipples, bitting down and smiles when Stiles bucks his hips up and mutters something Derek doesn’t quite catch.

 

Stiles tilts his head back for Derek and Derek takes that as his cue to latch on to Stiles’ neck. He sucks on it for a few seconds, running his tongue over the spot and then sucks at it again until he knows that hickey is going to bloom any second. Stiles seems to like it, his hand on the back of Derek’s head keeping Derek to his neck like he wants more and Derek is only to happy to oblige.

 

“I have condoms and lube,” Stiles pants looking up at the ceiling because he can’t see Derek when he has his face in Stiles’ neck. “I know about the whole werewolf no STD thing and I haven’t had sex in ages and I’m clean but I can get another test so you can be sure.”

 

Stiles’ hands fly towards his bedside table and opens it and sure enough there’s a pack of condoms and lube.

 

“I believe you,” Derek says gruffly pulling away from Stiles’ neck but still makes a grab for the lube and condoms. 

 

Derek opens the cap on the lube and pours some over Stiles’ cock, watches with a smirk at the way Stiles hisses when the lube first hits his dick. Derek warps his hand around Stiles and starts to jerk him off slowly. Stiles falls flat on his back, giving up on holding himself up with his elbows and closes his eyes.

 

His hips twitch and raise in time to meet Derek’s hands and it’s fucking _glorious._ Derek loves the way Stiles shuts his eyes, bites at his lips and then runs his tongue over those lips. Derek would just love to get Stiles off like this, to see Stiles’ face when he comes just from Derek’s hand. 

 

“What do you want?” Derek asks stopping his hands so that Stiles has to pay attention.

 

Stiles hands run down his chest, over his happy trail as he looks up at Derek through his dark, long eyelashes and Derek knows he’s just fucking fucked now. He’s gone in the deep end. 

 

“Fuck me?” Stiles asks wrapping his hand around Derek’s as they stroke Stiles’ dick together. “I’ve been thinking about it a hell of a lot. Want to see if you can live up to what I dreamed.”

 

“Is that a challenge?” Derek asks gripping Stiles a little tighter, watching the way Stiles’ breath hitches. 

 

“It might be. We’ll see how you do,” Stiles grins. 

 

Derek shakes his head, chuckling and lets go of Stiles. Stiles keeps his hand on his own dick, slowly jerking off as Derek gets some more lube on his fingers, this time warming it up. 

 

Stiles plants his feet firmly on the bed, opening his legs a little wider to accommodate Derek. Derek runs his finger over Stiles’ asshole, coating it in lube before he decides to push one finger in. Derek gets up to the first knuckle and he groans in unison with Stiles because Stiles is warm, and so inviting. He can already feel Stiles contracting against his finger.

 

He works his finger in more, pumping it a few times before he adds another. He places a kiss to the top of Stiles’ knee, running his mouth along the inseam of Stiles thigh as he continues to work his fingers in. He keeps his eyes on Stiles, switching between watching Stiles’ flushed face and where Stiles is still working his cock so he doesn’t go soft. 

 

“You should see yourself,” Derek finds himself saying, moving his eyes down to where he’s working his third finger in. 

 

“I like my view just fine,” Stiles smiles staring right at Derek.

 

Derek ducks his head a little lower so that Stiles doesn’t see his blush, just blame it on being flushed from getting worked up. When Stiles is open enough, Derek pulls away to roll the condom on and pour some lube over it. Stiles takes that opportunity to flip over so that he’s on his stomach. 

 

Derek grabs a hold of Stiles’ hips pulling Stiles back a little farther, then he slowly guides his cock into Stiles. He goes slowly at first, his own breath catching as he feels Stiles’ tight heat covering his dick, even over the condom. He pushes in slowly, feeling Stiles pushing back minutely to meet Derek. When he bottoms out he drapes himself over Stiles’ back, running his mouth over the side of Stiles’ neck, over the hickey he put there earlier. 

 

“Jesus fuck,” Stiles breaths.

 

“Good?” Derek laughs, peeling himself off of Stiles’ back, getting his hands back around Stiles’ hips. Stiles barely gets out a yeah before Derek is pulling back out a little and slamming his hips back forward. Stiles’ arms almost give out from the force and he hangs his head down low groaning.

 

Stiles steadies himself as Derek fucks into him, harder with each thrust. Derek gets his arm around the front of Stiles’ neck, pulling Stiles closer as he fucks into him. When Derek’s cock finally grazes over Stiles’ prostrate Stiles lets out a mewl and drops down onto his forearms. He rests his head in the crook of his elbow.

 

Derek loves the way he can still hear Stiles panting into the crook of his arm, hear the way his heartbeat is erratic and Derek knows the feeling. Derek runs his hand up Stiles’ back, a reassuring gesture as he fucks into him. Derek lets Stiles’ groans of pleasure and moans spur him on, make him snap his hips more forcefully. 

 

Derek pulls out giving Stiles a minute to recover, their breaths panting.

 

“Wanna ride you,” Stiles slurs falling flat on his stomach, his face buried in the sheets. Stiles’ hips twitch against the bed and Derek knows that Stiles is enjoying the feeling of the fabric on his cock. Derek falls on the bed beside Stiles and lays on his back, nudging Stiles’ calf with his foot to get his attention.

 

Stiles looks up with a hazy grin and pushes himself farther up so that he can straddle Derek’s waist. Stiles finds Derek’s cock and lines it up with his hole as he slowly lowers himself on to it. 

 

Derek grinds his teeth and fists his hands in the sheets to stop himself from bucking up into Stiles, despite how good Stiles feels. When Stiles lowers himself, he rests his hands on Derek’s thighs and just sits there, revelling in the fullness of having Derek in him.

 

“Now this is the best view,” Stiles grins as he starts to move his hips slowly watching Derek. “Have you even seen yourself?”

 

“I do own a mirror,” Derek grunts, resting his hands on the top of Stiles’ thighs, running his fingers through the downy hair.

 

“Funny.”

 

Derek’s about to retort when Stiles raises himself higher, falling back down on his cock and Derek can only moan in response. He doesn’t miss the way Stiles smirks at that. Stiles sets the pace that he likes, working himself up and down Derek’s cock as fast as he can, his legs spamming every time he raises up. 

 

“Close?” Derek asks removing one of his hands from Stiles’ thigh and wraps it around Stiles’ cock. His rhythm is disrupted for a minute, taking in the sensation of having Derek’s hand around his cock, and then starts moving again.

 

Derek jerks Stiles off as best as he can with Stiles still moving, rubbing his thumb over the head of Stiles’ cock, tightening the grip as he works his hand up, twisting his wrist. 

 

Stiles’ hands tighten on Derek’s thigh, a bruise inducing grip - if Derek got bruises - his nails digging in before he lets out a moan, his mouth falling in an o shape. Derek feels Stiles’ cock twitch, as spurts of come land on Derek’s hand and stomach. As Stiles comes, he tightens around Derek’s cock and a few seconds later Derek’s bucking his hips up, coming. 

 

Derek works Stiles’ cock until he’s milked him clean and Stiles falls forward on Derek’s chest, smearing the come between them. 

 

Derek’s nostrils flare as their scents mix together and Stiles sighs against Derek’s pecs. After a few seconds of recuperation, Stiles gently lifts himself off of Derek’s cock and falls on to the side of the bed that’s free, instantly tangling his legs with Derek’s.

 

Derek takes the condom off, ties it up and tosses it with the wrapper, too lazy to get up. 

 

“A+ Definitely,” Stiles says into Derek’s arm patting his chest.

 

“Thanks,” Derek replies drily but turns into Stiles, bringing him closer. 

 

Derek feels when Stiles drifts off, feels his breath against his chest and Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles’ back. That’s when he has his mental crisis. He can’t believe he just had sex with Stiles, that was never in the plan, that’s never what he wanted but the more he got to know Stiles, the more he became interested. The more he _kissed_ Stiles, the more he wanted to take it that one step farther. 

 

But then Derek turns his head, watches as Stiles’ eyes flutters as he sleeps, his even breathing and how fucking peaceful he looks. And that’s when Derek finds it will do no good to have a crisis now, they’ve already had sex, they’re laying in bed together and Derek can’t very well just get up and leave. Instead, he closes his eyes listening to the even rhythm of Stiles’ heartbeat and his breathing and dozes off himself. 

 

In the morning, he wakes to Stiles rolling onto his back and yawning as he stretches his body, into a full starfish, jostling Derek awake. 

 

“Sorry,” Stiles looks sheepish when he looks over at Derek and sees him pop his eyes open. “Not use to hitting anyone when I wake up.”

 

“-‘skay,” Derek murmurs opening and closing his mouth, trying to wake himself up.

 

Stiles gets off the bed and puts on a pair of boxers. He looks at the condom on the floor and scrunches his face up. “Ew,” but he bends down and takes it with him to the bathroom to throw it out. 

 

Derek looks down at his stomach and sees that he has dry come there, sticking to his happy trail. Fantastic. 

 

“Do you want a wash cloth or a shower?” Stiles yells from the bathroom.

 

Derek contemplates taking a shower but there’s no use considering he doesn’t have a change of clothes. “Washcloth,” he answers. 

 

Stiles comes back a few minutes later with a damp washcloth and baby wipes giving them to Derek. He sits on the side of the bed letting Derek clean himself up before he makes a grab for his clothes.

 

“I’d offer you a pair of my boxers but I don’t know if they’d fit?” 

 

“It’s okay,” Derek reassures Stiles. 

 

Stiles nods his head and leaves the bedroom for Derek to get changed in peace. Derek’s glad to see that at least Stiles isn’t freaking out or anything, so Derek doesn’t either. At least not yet.

 

When he walks out into the kitchen, he sees Stiles at the counter with a mixing bowl, flour and some milk. Obviously making breakfast as he eyes a pan on the stove, heating up. 

 

“Don’t get too used to me making you breakfast every morning by the way,” Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek, but with a playful smile on his face. 

 

“Just don’t poison me,” Derek says looking through the cupboards to find a glass and fills it up with some water. 

 

“Breakfast foods I have down,” Stiles reassures Derek as he pours some of the mixture into the pan. “Pancakes it is today.”

 

Stiles makes a pot of coffee for himself, offering Derek some but he declines instead sticking to orange juice. Stiles does in fact, make good pancakes, with chocolate chips in them and Derek scarfs down half of them, while Stiles eats the rest. 

 

After breakfast, after he’s helped Stiles clean up he makes an excuse about having to go somewhere and that he’s really sorry. Stiles doesn’t look hurt, which he doesn’t know whether that’s better or not, but just nods his head in understanding. 

 

“Talk to you later?” Stiles asks standing at the front door as Derek puts his shoes on. Stiles is still in his boxers and when Derek nods his head, he leans in closer, pecking Derek on the lips before Derek is out the door. 

 

Derek’s hustling to his car when he sees someone running along the pavement and almost run right into him. Of course, it’s Allison just coming back from a morning jog, her hair up in a messy bum and headphones in.

 

“Oh hey Derek,” she smiles and doesn’t give him a knowing or judgemental look, just looks genuinely surprised to see him.

 

Derek nods he head, stepping out of the way so that Allison can pass and unlocks his door, speeding off. The last thing Derek needed was Allison seeing him leave Stiles’ apartment early on a Sunday morning and reporting it back to her dad, even in a casual conversation. Derek does not need _anyone_ knowing that he slept with Stiles. 

 

He’s not sure if it was an explicit rule that he _not_ sleep with the suspect but he’s pretty sure it was understood that he wouldn’t. Hell he told _himself_ he wasn’t going to let it get to the sex stage and look how that turned out. 

 

**

“Derek and I had sex,” Stiles blurts out the minute Scott opens the door. Scott doesn’t even have the key out of the door yet, frozen in spot blinking at Stiles. Stiles is sitting on the couch flipping through channels waiting for Scott to finally get home

 

“Good for you bud,” Scott laughs shutting the door behind him. He sits down on the couch next to Stiles. “It’s about time.”

 

“Oh shut up,” Stiles huffs but he’s grinning from ear-to-ear.

 

“Please tell me you didn’t like have sex in the kitchen or on the table?” Scott’s eyes widen looking at the dining room table. “I do my work on that table!”

 

“Oh shut up,” Stiles smacks Scott this time. “It was strictly in the bedroom. _My_ bedroom before you make a smart ass remark again.” 

 

Scott holds his hand up in a fist and Stiles fist bumps him laughing. Now they’re both getting laid, all is well in the world. 

 

“How’s your mom? Did you see my dad?” 

 

“They’re both good,” Scott nods his head. “Your dad came over for dinner.”

 

“God you think after our parents last disastrous relationship they’d just get together. You really don’t need your mom dating that psychic median or whatever it was he called himself.”

 

“And you don’t need your dad trying to date a younger woman again.”

 

Stiles groans covering his hands remembering his dad going on a few dates with a woman ten years younger than him. It was just plain awkward meeting her and imaging calling her his new mother. “We’re never to speak of _that_ date again.”

 

“One of these days they’ll get married,” Scott nods his head patting Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s inevitable. Oh my mom packed some of her home made cookies!”

 

Stiles snatches the container from Scott, as they put on a movie and eat the whole container of cookies. Melissa McCall makes the best chocolate chip cookies, they’re just so soft and gooey and they practically melt in your mouth. Besides, both Stiles and Scott are having regular sex now (with their respective partners, not each other, ew) and therefore can work it off. So it’s justifiable that they shared two dozen amongst themselves.  

 

**

Derek and Stiles haven’t had sex again since their first time. Well, not penetrative sex. They’ve been on a few dates since then over the next two weeks, Stiles got his results back and waved them in Derek’s face that he was all clear. Derek believed him anyway, but Stiles insisted on being absolutely certain. 

 

They celebrated by mutual blow jobs late one night when Derek was dropping Stiles back at his apartment. Scott was out with Allison so he didn’t have to hear or walk in on any weird noises or sights. Thankfully, Stiles never brought up the issues of why they haven’t gone to Derek’s apartment yet and Derek is so fucking thankful for that.

 

His apartment is his sanctuary, somewhere to get away from work and the stresses of the day and he knows if he brought Stiles there he’d just be on edge. His brain trying to figure out if he brought any case work home with him, if there’s a file of Stiles somewhere hidden and Stiles is going to find it. It’s just _safer_ to go to Stiles’ house, Derek doesn’t have to worry about forgotten paperwork or anything. 

 

What Derek _can’t_ avoid though, is Stiles not meeting his friends. Not when Stiles starts asking about who Derek hangs out with and not when Derek’s supposed friends start to nag saying they want to meet Stiles. Erica does have a point that if he has to sell this whole thing then it only makes sense they meet, especially considering Derek ‘officially’ met Scott on their double date. 

 

Derek chooses a local pizza joint for everyone to meet up. Derek had only planned on inviting Isaac, Erica and Boyd and Derek’s eyes nearly bug out when he sees Cora trailing in after Isaac. The fucking traitor. Derek has to quickly recover, standing up and placing his hand on the small of Stiles’ back as he introduces everyone. 

 

“We’ve actually met,” Cora smiles extending her hand to Stiles after she’s introduced as Derek’s sister. 

 

“We have?” Stiles asked scrunching his face up. 

 

“At Kali’s. I was your bartender. You were there with your friend?” 

 

“Oh my God! You’re right. I’m sorry. That seems like forever ago.”

 

Derek panics, at Cora mentioning the night Stiles was arrested. But Cora just smiles and sits down in the booth, everyone else crowding in as they start to talk. 

 

“So how long have you two been dating,” Erica smiles as sweetly as she can. Derek kicks her under the table but she’s a werewolf and just as strong, so she doesn’t budge and at least Stiles doesn’t notice. 

 

“Uh a while I guess?” Stiles asks looking at Derek. “We haven’t really kept track I guess.”

 

“You mean you haven’t defined the relationship?” Erica widens her eyes.

 

Derek fucking hates her. Wants to drag her outside and bury her alive. He watches as Boyd wraps his arm around Erica’s shoulder and grips her tightly, a clear enough signal just for her so no one else notices, that she needs to shut up before something goes wrong. 

 

“Derek here has commitment issues don’t worry Stiles,” Cora interrupts completely oblivious to everything going on. “He got his heart broken back in our old home town, Beacon Hills.”

 

“Shut up,” Derek bites out glaring at Cora. 

 

“What?” Cora asks innocently. “Surely Stiles doesn’t think you were some kind of virgin and never in a relationship before? Besides Bobby is so last year,” Cora turns her look to Stiles. 

 

Stiles snorts. “Oh I didn’t think he was virgin alright,” and then turns a shade of red. 

 

Isaac, Erica and Boyd’s eyes bug out and Cora just laughs and then says gross that’s her brother. Derek feels the gaze of his co-workers on him and he knows his cover has been blown, he knows that they know he and Stiles have slept together. He only hopes that they _don’t_ fucking saying anything to Chris, or worse yet Kate. 

 

“Who’s Bobby?” Stiles asks trying to change the topic from their sex life.

 

“Broke Derek’s heart,” Cora says at the same time Derek says no one.

 

Stiles nods his head in understanding and tries to change the topic. 

 

After dinner Cora suggest that they go out drinking. Boyd, the angel that he is says that it’s getting late and that maybe they should all head home. He knows Boyd just said that so Derek could make an escape, get Stiles out of the clutches of Erica and Cora - not that it works. 

 

“C’mon,” Erica pouts. “We’ve filled up on pizza, now we need a good night out drinking.” 

 

“We can go to Kali’s?” Cora suggests.

 

Derek feels Stiles freeze beside him and when Derek looks over at Stiles, he looks torn between nervous and trying to play it off. Isaac must notice because he gets up from the booth and says maybe the should head outside to talk about it, get some fresh air.

 

Boyd follows soon after and by extension Erica, and Cora doesn’t want to left alone with her brother and Stiles. 

 

“You alright?” Derek asks Stiles when they’re alone. He needs to know whether Stiles is sceptical to go back there because he knows something, or if it’s something completely different. 

 

“Scott and I just said we’d avoid there for a while,” Stiles admits shrugging his shoulders. “Neither of us were exactly in the mood to get accused of _murdering_ someone.”

 

“As long as you’re not planning on killing anyone I think we’ll be okay,” Derek goes for a joke, smiling a little when Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s starting to think that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go back to Kali’s after all. Maybe someone will see Stiles there, someone that knows something about the murders or knows something that really happened. They talked to people at the club right after the murder but no one was talking. This way, they might find some information by accident. 

 

“I think I can refrain,” Stiles replies drily shoving Derek out of the booth so they can meet everyone else outside. Derek knows they were all probably eavesdropping anyway. 

 

At the bar everyone has more than a few drinks in them, except Derek. He may not be carrying his badge right now but he is with Stiles and he’s not going to risk having a few drinks with the Wolfsbane in it before he misses something crucial. Erica, Boyd and Isaac don’t seem to care, knocking back their Wolfsbane brew alcohol, and Cora is just oblivious. 

 

Cora tries to pull Stiles up to dance and he protests saying that no one should ever have to see him dance, even if he is drunk. Cora and Erica are having none of that, and eventually get him up and Stiles is right. No one should ever see him dance. He flops about the dance floor like he’s having an aneurism, bumping into people his hips attempting to gyrate back and forth. 

 

Derek doesn’t understand how there’s such a vast different from the man he slept with, the man who moved his hips so smoothly, rolling them on to Derek’s cock, those hips that were shoving back to get more of Derek’s cock in him and the man who’s on the dance floor dancing like a fish out of water. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Stiles just really shouldn’t be seen on the dance floor. But Derek’s thoughts turn to the night they had sex, and how rhythmic he was then, how _nice_ it was. 

 

“Maybe he really didn’t do it,” Boyd comments taking his eyes away from where his girlfriend is bumping and grinding on Stiles and Cora. 

 

“Pretty bold of him to go out drinking with four agents,” Isaac nods his head.

 

“I’ve been telling everyone this since the beginning,” Derek says turning to Boyd and Isaac. “Does Chris listen though? No.”

 

“The trail is going to run cold soon if we only focus on Stiles and Scott,” Boyd nods taking a sip of his beer. “Eventually Chris and Kate will have to drop them as suspects.”

 

“Yeah when?” Derek mutters under his breath, but his eyes track back to the dance floor and where Stiles is. It’s not that hard to find him, not when there’s a large cleared space from where Erica, Cora and Stiles are dancing. Probably because none of the other patrons want to get injured. 

 

**

 

Derek has weekly - sometimes bi-weekly if he’s in a particularly good mood - with his parents back in Beacon Hills. It’s basically just a way to reassure them that he’s still alive and keep them off his back. If he didn’t talk to them as often as he did, they’d drive down here and crash at Derek’s place for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Derek does not want to ever experience that again. 

 

“So who is this Stiles character?” Derek’s dad asks. 

 

Derek balks, almost dropping his phone in the sink as he tries to soak the dishes. What the fuck?

 

“How do you know about that?” Derek panics.

 

“I have my ways,” his dad answers in a mysterious tone.

  
Cora. Fucking Cora. It would only make sense that she’d say something, especially after they all went out for pizza and to the bar. The minute he saw his sister next, he’s going to kick her ass into next year. 

 

“It’s nothing serious,” Derek sighs settling down on the barstool, forgetting about the dishes. 

 

“Are you inviting him to Laura’s engagement party in two weeks? You are still coming home aren’t you?” 

 

“I’m coming home yes, Stiles is not coming.”

 

“Derek Hale, it will do you no good to hide this fella of yours now will it?”

 

“I’m not about to bring someone into the wolf’s den if it’s not serious,” Derek groans. The last thing he wants to do is bring Stiles home to his family. 

 

“Cora seems to think it’s serious.”

 

“Cora doesn’t know anything.”

 

Derek hears someone yelling in the background and can just make out that it’s his mother. She’s yelling at his dad to let her on the phone. He hears the phone being passed over and Derek doesn’t know whether he should be relieved that he’s going to talk to his mother, in hope that she not bring up Stiles.

 

He does’t have the best of luck.

 

“Derek honey,” Derek’s mom, Talia, says her voice warm and soothing.

 

“Hi mom,” Derek relaxes.

 

“So about this Stiles guy,” she says smugly and yeah Derek really doesn’t have the best of luck. “Either you bring him home for Laura’s engagement party or risk your father trying to hook you up with one of your distant, twice removed cousins. Your choice.”

 

Derek will never forget the time his dad - after Derek broke up with Bobby and came home for the weekend - tried to hook him up with one of their old family friends. The guy wasn’t actually even gay but Derek’s dad thought he was. It was a whole bag of fucking awkward and Derek is going to avoid his father trying to play match maker at all costs. 

 

“I’ll see if he’s free,” Derek mutters into the phone, resigned. 

 

He can either reinforce to his parents that this relationship isn’t serious and risk Cora bugging the ever living shit out of him and blowing the whole thing or just invite Stiles and get it over with. Besides, he’ll only be going home for the weekend, they couldn’t possibly grow to love Stiles in a weekend. Plus, he won’t have his dad or sisters playing matchmaker. Win-win. 

 

**

There’s no getting out of the fact that Derek needs to tell his superiors that not only with his time off is he going back to his home town, but he’s also taking Stiles with him. If he tried to lie about it, or not mention it Danny the IT guy would probably somehow find out. Like, by bugging Derek’s phone. He bets Kate would put him up to it as well. 

 

“There hasn’t been much progress in the Kali club killing,” Chris concedes at the beginning of their debriefing. “It’s just been the normal run of the mill crimes. Do you have any further updates Derek?” 

 

“No,” Derek answers. “But I have to take Stiles home next weekend to meet my parents,” he says under his breath.

 

Kate perks up as Chris’ eyebrows almost raise off of his forehead. 

 

“Cora, my sister has already met Stiles and mentioned him to my parents. If I don’t bring him it’ll only raise suspicion.”

 

“Well this is just fascinating,” Kate cackles. “Maybe he’ll even open up, more than his pretty little mouth for you, of course.”

 

Derek bristles at what Kate is implying, feels Isaac’s hand on his forearm as a reassuring gesture. Derek’s still about to open his mouth and say something when Chris interrupts. He probably knows if he doesn’t say something Derek and Kate will just go at each other’s throats, ignoring the fact that they’re at work. 

 

“That’s alright Derek,” Chris nods his head stepping closer to Derek and shielding Kate from Derek’s line of vision. Not that it helps, Derek can still _feel_ Kate’s presence and that’s enough to raise his hackles anyway. “If we haven’t made much progress by the time you two have returned, you can ‘break’ up with Stiles and we’ll move on to new leads.”

 

Derek breaths a sigh of relief, deflating a little at the prospect of getting out of this messy situation. He only wished it could have happened _before_ he had to go home to see his family, because now when he ‘breaks’ up with Stiles he knows his family will hound him and ask him what happened, what went wrong and if Derek is alright. But he’ll take what he can get at this point. 

 

“See? Not long to go now,” Boyd reassures Derek as they break up the meeting, walking back towards their offices. “While you’re gone Erica and I can start looking at new leads.”

 

“Thanks Boyd,” Derek claps Boyd on the back. The sooner they find a new suspect to fixate on, the sooner Derek will feel like he’s ten pounds lighter. And whoever this new suspect turns out to be, whether he or she is gay, straight or a fucking unicorn Derek is _not_ dating them, hell he’s not even going to interrogate them. He’ll leave that for his partner Isaac. 

 

**

Stiles is fidgeting in his seat waiting for Scott to carry their coffees back to the table. They’re at their new favourite coffee shop/book store that’s only a few minutes walk from their apartment. 

 

“Do you have ants in your pants?” Scott asks tilting his head to the side like he really believes Stiles _could_ have ants in his pants. “You’ve been all sketchy this entire evening.” 

 

“I’m meeting Derek Hale’s family next weekend,” Stiles groans taking the warm cup of coffee in his hand, holding it to his chest like a suit of armour. 

 

“So things are getting pretty serious between you two huh? I haven’t even met Allison’s family yet, she only has her dad and aunt now though.”

 

“I guess so yeah!” Stile screeches. “I’m going to his home town, Beacon Hills, and meeting his _entire_ family Scott. I’ve never been alone with a family of werewolves.”

 

“You’ve been around me and Deucalion,” Scott points out. Which is not helpful. “Oh and I forgot to tell you! I spoke to him,” Scott ignores the look of disgust on Stiles’ face and continues anyway. “He said he knows the owner of Kali’s, and that if we’d told him he could have hooked us up with free drinks.”

 

“Not helpful, also Derek’s sister works there anyway. Deucalion always creeped me the fuck out dude. Besides, I only put up with him because _you_ were there. You’re not going to be there next weekend.”

 

“You’ll have Derek. Plus hey, you guys must be moving in the right direction if you’re meeting the fam huh?”

 

Stiles smiles, hiding the smile behind his coffee mug. “Yeah I guess so. When do you think you’ll meet Allison’s family?”

 

“I don’t know,” Scott shrugs. “We’re pretty happy where we are, no family drama, just the two of us.”

 

“The honey moon phase,” Stiles nods his head in understanding. 

 

“The last thing I want to do right now is introduce her to my mom before they start picking out China patterns.”

 

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t get in on that action,” Stiles teases. Because he knows his friend, and Scott is beyond smitten with Allison. Which is maybe why he doesn’t want to rush the relationship yet, not risk getting his heart stamped on, just like back in New York. Stiles understands that. 

 

Maybe it is worth it all, Stiles meeting Derek’s family, Scott taking his relationship slow. Maybe things can actually work out for them this time. They’re older and more responsible (that’s debatable according to their parents) than they were in New York. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have some sexy times on New Years Eve.  
> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have updated yesterday but I was in a Sherlock coma, sorry but not sorry!
> 
> Also, because someone is likely to complain, there's some bottom Derek coming up, so you can breeze past that if it's not your thing but I feel it's vital to the story!

“It’s Laura’s engagement party,” Derek explains in the car on the drive up to Beacon Hills. It’s about three hours away and they’re only an hour in to the drive and Derek is trying to give Stiles a crash course about his family tree. Stiles looks constipated like he’s trying to remember everyone’s name. 

 

“And Laura is marrying Brian?”

 

“Correct,” Derek nods. “My mom is Talia, she’s the Alpha but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. Surprisingly enough, she’s the quite one between her and my dad. She never used the ‘I’m the Alpha card’ but she sure as hell used the ‘Because I’m your mother’ card. Not that there’s anyone really quiet in my family.”

 

Stiles snorts. “There’s you.”

 

“I’m the exception to the rule,” Derek answers overtaking a car that’s driving too slowly on the high way. “My dad’s name is Jack, he’s the outgoing one and Cora and Laura definitely take after him. Peter is my mom’s brother, watch out for him. He seems quiet but then he says something and you have to do a double take, thinking he couldn’t have possibly said that. He’s… inappropriate at the best of times.”

 

“There’s always that creepy uncle or aunt,” Stiles mutters. 

 

Derek laughs because he knows that’s the truth. Peter is the black sheep of the family but Derek’s also kind of thankful for that because if Peter weren’t the black sheep than Derek would be. Derek doesn’t have any idea how he’s going to explain Stiles, how they met, how long they’ve been seeing each other but he thinks if he tries to go over it with Stiles it’ll just look suspicious. He just hopes his family will be as loud and obnoxious as they always are and not let him or Stiles get a word in edgewise. Two nights, just two nights they have to get through. 

 

“Are they… cool with humans?” Stiles hesitates to ask after Derek slaps his hand on Stiles’ knee to stop him from bouncing it up and down. Derek could see Stiles’ leg jiggling in his peripheral view and it was annoying. 

 

“Of course,” Derek nods his head. “We have humans in our family and my ex was human.”

 

“Look how that turned out.”

 

“I didn’t dump him because he was human Stiles,” Derek sighs.

 

“That bad in bed?” 

 

Derek gives him a ‘really?’ look but Stiles is smiling like the devil, playing at a little shit and Derek has to huff shaking his head. Derek’s positive that if anyone had to meet Derek’s crazy ass family, Stiles would be one of the very, very few that could outwit and outtalk them. He doesn’t know whether that’s even a good thing or a bad. Knowing his luck, Stiles and his family will gang up on Derek.

 

Two nights, just two fucking nights. 

 

Stiles whistles as Derek turns down a side street lined with tons of trees, his family home coming into view. It is rather large and maybe a little extravagant but the Hale house has been in their family for generations, each new homeowner taking over the house and maintaining the upkeep. They had a lot of extended family and other relatives close by, holidays and parties were always at this house. It had to be large enough to house everyone. 

 

“You left all this for LA?”

“Had to do my own thing,” Derek shrugs. The last thing he wants to do is have the same conversation with Stiles that he has with his family. Them complaining that Derek left Beacon Hills to start his own life in LA where he knows no one, and the fact that Cora followed after him a few years later when she was old enough. 

 

The minute Derek puts the car in park he sees the door opening and some of his family filing out. He has a moment to panic before he remembers that he has to keep himself in check. He’s not around Erica, Isaac and Boyd, he’s around his family that can just _tell_ when he’s having an internal crisis - even before he realises it. 

 

His family all ignores Derek in favour of walking around to Stiles’ side of the car bringing him into a group hug. Derek huffs because his family could at least give Stiles a few minutes to adjust before they pack hug him to death.

 

“It’s so nice to meet you Stiles,” Talia starts, pulling away from Stiles. 

 

“Good to put a name to a face,” Jack bellows resting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

 

Laura and Brian smile, saying their hellos and back off a few minutes to let Stiles breath. Derek didn’t think Laura would give Stiles a minute to breath, maybe Brian because he would understand. Though he’s certain Laura will be on Stiles later tonight.

 

“Where’s Cora?” Jack frowns looking down the drive way. 

 

“Derek sped off as soon as we hit the highway, leaving Cora in the dust,” Stiles smiles walking around to the trunk to retrieve his overnight bag.

 

“Derek Hale,” Talia scolds. 

 

Derek rolls his eyes and takes Stiles’ bag from him, only to have his dad take the bags from him and lead them inside the house. Derek watches as Stiles takes in the interior, his eyes scanning over every available space, over the decorations and pictures adorning the walls. Derek’s family is the opposite of Derek, where he’s a minimalist, his family love to have their house filled with pictures, antiques and family heirlooms. They’re hoarders, in Derek’s humble opinion. 

 

Jack leads them up the stairs and down the winding hallways, stopping at the last room farthest away from everyone. Derek internally groans, because he figured his parents would let them share a room, but they didn’t need the ‘private room’ thank you very much.

 

Jack opens the door, showing a large queen-sized bed with a canopy over it, large dresser and vanity area with a walk in bathroom. It’s all dark-wood with a large windows to let lights in. “Your room you two. We’re not old fashioned and make you two sleep in separate rooms,” Jack adds on for Stiles’ sake. He winks at Stiles at walks away.

 

Stiles turns bright red and Derek is pretty sure he’s matching Stiles’ shade of red right now. They step into the bedroom and close the door, effectively cutting out everyone else in the house. 

 

“That was embarrassing,” Stiles says thumping his head on the door. 

 

“Tell me about it,” Derek agrees. “I had to live with them for 18 years.”

 

“And I thought my dad was bad.”

 

Derek throws their bags on the bed and starts to unpack his own things.

 

“Is this your old bedroom?” Stiles says plopping down right in the middle of the large bed, being surrounded by the sheets. 

 

“No. One of the kids might be sleeping in my room, probably. Smaller bed.”

 

“Smaller bed, better for cuddling,” Stiles waggles his eyebrows, laughing when Derek rolls his eyes and walks towards the bathroom to freshen up. 

 

When Derek reemerges from the bedroom, Stiles is still laying comfortable on top of the bed, his hands resting behind his head, his eyes closed. 

 

“Want the bathroom?” Derek asks. Stiles makes a contented sigh, not even bothering to get up. Instead he pushes himself farther into the blankets. 

 

Derek’s traitorous mind turns to Stiles laying in the bed they’re going to share. His scent mingling with the sheets, his content sigh to just want to lay there and Derek kind of wants nothing more than to join Stiles right now - at least for a little while. He did after all have a rather long drive didn’t he? 

 

Derek’s feet are moving before he realises it, getting on the bed beside Stiles. Stiles turns his head, smiles at Derek with closed eyes and snuggles in closer. Stiles hooks one of his legs around Derek so that he can’t move. Not that Derek was going anywhere, except maybe to get _closer_ to Stiles, not farther.

 

“On a scale of one to Vesuvius how mad would your family be if we had a little nap?” 

 

“Little boy,” Derek answers turning his face towards Stiles, getting a mouthful of Stiles’ hair in his mouth but he doesn’t even fucking care.

 

Stiles laughs at the fact that Derek remembered that Little Boy was the code name for the atomic bomb used at Hiroshima. But, Derek doesn’t make to move up so Stiles stays where he is as well, happy to be resting and stretching out after a long drive. 

 

They get maybe half an hour of a power nap before there’s banging on the door, and yelling. 

 

“Hey you asshole,” Cora’s voice travels through the thick wooden door. “Thanks for ditching me back there. Now get down here for dinner.” 

 

Derek grumbles, untangling himself from Stiles’ body. Stiles wipes the drool off of his mouth - which shouldn’t be cute - stretching and swings his legs off of the bed. Derek does the same, as they smooth their clothes out and head downstairs.

 

Of course, to his family it would seem like they were doing everything else _but_ napping. With their still rumpled clothes, bed head and flushed skin from being warm where they were tangled together. But they had clothes on. Not that Derek’s family would believe that if even if he told him. 

 

“Nice of you to join us,” someone drawls from the kitchen. Peter. 

 

“Uncle Peter,” Derek nods his head. 

 

“And you must be Stiles,” Peter smiles walking towards Stiles. “Young one aren’t you? I like that.”

 

“I’m 22, and legal,” Stiles says by way of greeting. 

 

Derek smirks, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and bringing him closer to his body. Peter just laughs, watch as the two of them interact before he moves on to another room. 

 

Cora walks back into the kitchen from the dining room where she was setting the table. She takes one look at Derek and narrows her eyes at him. 

 

“Just FYI, you already got the dude,” her eyes flicker to Stiles. “There was no need to speed off like  Speedy Gonzales in that pussy magnet of yours to impress your date. Or should I say dick magnet.”

 

“Cora,” Talia reprimands at the same time that Jack laughs, trying to cover it when his wife shoots him the death glare. 

 

“At least he doesn’t have a monster truck, you know what they say about the guys that drive those,” Peter yells from somewhere in the house. 

 

This time Jack can’t hold back his howls of laughter as Talia proceeds to yell at her brother. Cora smirks, sauntering back into the dining room carrying one of the food dishes. Stiles’ eyes are darting from person-to-person like he’s trying to figure out whether this is real life or some sort of reality prank show. Derek _wishes_ it were a bad reality show and not his every day life. 

 

Talia hands each of the boys a warm dish of food to take to the dining room table. The table is set with plates all around, and lines of cooked food in the middle. Everything smells delicious and Derek forgot how much he missed his parents home cooked meals. 

 

There’s more then enough food for their immediate family, Derek and Stiles, Laura and Brian, Peter and his wife Lucy and their two children - who are much more civil and nice to Stiles than Peter was - Derek’s parents and Cora. 

 

They made a chicken, pesto and spinach puff pastry tart, salad and lasagna soup. Everyone has seconds and thirds and there’s not a crumb left over after dinner is over. Then again, that’s what happens in a house full of werewolves. When dinner is over and the kids are allowed to scurry off with their dessert to sit in front of the TV does the conversation turn towards Stiles and Derek. 

 

“Derek never did tell us how you two met,” Talia muses over her dessert. Cookie dough bites with warm chocolate drizzled over. 

 

Stiles beats Derek to the punch.

 

“It was around the time Derek arrested me. On suspicion of murder.”

 

The whole dining room turns quiet, cookie dough bites forgotten as they balk at Derek and Stiles. Derek’s eyes widen and Peter chortles, clearly finding this fucking amusing. 

 

“Why did you arrest this poor young man?” Talia gasps her eyes snapping to Derek.

 

“We had to follow every lead,” Derek mutters under his breath.

 

“What did I teach you about mumbling Derek?” Talia asks.

 

“It’s no use in a house full of werewolves,” Derek answers _still_ muttering. He can feel Stiles shaking with laughter beside him, clearly finding this all just as amusing as Peter. Figures. 

 

“In all honesty,” Stiles says giving Derek a reprieve. “We met at a bar after the whole incident, cleared the air and here we are.”

 

Stiles turns his head to smile at Derek, and Derek has to smile back before he gives anything away. Stiles may think they cleared the air but Derek’s still not too sure about that one yet. 

 

“Who knew I could put up with such a grump huh?” Stiles says patting Derek’s arm.

 

The table laughs in agreement like they can’t quite believe that Stiles would ever date Derek. 

 

“You never did give me that questionnaire to fill out,” Derek muses needing to contribute to the conversation.

 

“Do we even want to know?” Laura’s eyes widen before she smirks. 

 

Stiles laughs and then reassures the table it’s nothing dirty. “It was a joke, that I like to know my dates political beliefs before it gets too serious.”

 

“Oh of course,” Talia nods her head going off about some news article she read on politics.

 

Derek’s just thankful that the conversation has finally veered away from him and Stiles. Derek still feels the need to touch Stiles though, the urge to touch and mark more prominent and strong now that he’s around family, around _pack_. He doesn’t see them as a threat, he just _wants_ their combined scents to mingle. He puts his arm around the back of Stiles’ chair, his hands playing at the nape of Stiles’ neck. 

 

He feels Stiles relax into his touch, the way Stiles’ hand rests on Derek’s lap and it’s comforting. His family don’t give him anymore knowing looks or tease him about it. They find it normal, talking around the dinner table with their late night cup of coffee before everyone’s ready to hit the sack. 

 

Derek offers to let Stiles shower first, although he’d love to be in there too but Stiles doesn’t offer and Derek doesn’t ask. So when they’re in bed and Stiles just smells like soap, Derek gets his arm around Stiles’ waist and drags Stiles in closer to Derek, in the middle of the bed. 

 

“So how much do you think they liked me? Stiles asks putting his hand over Derek’s, that’s resting on his hips. 

 

“I think they like you more than me,” Derek exhales, watching the way Stiles’ hand is playing with Derek’s fingers. 

 

Stiles laughs quietly, shaking the bed. “Good to know.”

 

Derek retaliates by moving his hand lower, playing with the hem of Stiles’ sleep pants. He can feel Stiles’ heartbeat pick up, feel the way Stiles pushes back farther into Derek, silently urging him on. 

 

He knows he _probably_ shouldn’t be doing this considering he’s at his family house but they did give them the room farthest away from everyone else so why not take advantage of it? Besides, Derek wants to feel Stiles in his hand, wants to hear how silent Stiles can be instead of his usual loud, obnoxious self. 

 

Stiles shimmies out of his sleep pants, turning around to face Derek as Derek does the same. 

 

“Naughty, naughty,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips. He puckers his lips, kissing Derek, waiting for Derek to open up. Derek nips at Stiles’ lower lip, his hand on Stiles’ ass pulling him closer to his own body. Their hard cocks brushing against each other as they moan into each other’s mouths. “You going to make me come?”

 

Derek’s answer is to slide his finger down the crack of Stiles’ ass, pushing at the hole just hard enough to tease. Stiles jerks his hips closer to Derek.

 

“Depends on how quiet you can be,” Derek rumbles circling Stiles’ asshole. 

 

“Should have gotten a gag,” Stiles hums running his thumb over Derek’s nipple, watching it harden. 

 

“Don’t tempt me,” Derek huffs flipping Stiles so that they’re spooning again. 

 

Derek starts to jerk Stiles off, the only friction his cock getting is from where Stiles’ ass is pushing back on it. He starts to jerk Stiles off slowly, collecting the pre come and using it for extra slick. “Want to come on you,” Derek whispers into the nape of Stiles’ neck, biting down when Stiles groans out his agreement. Stiles pushes his neck closer to Derek, giving him better access. 

 

“Then come on me,” Stiles groans. “Do whatever you want.”

 

“Wait here,” Derek whispers, leaning up on his arm to nip at Stiles’ ear. He lets go, making Stiles groan in frustration. Stiles turns on his back to see where Derek’s going, when he rummages around in his travel-sized suitcase and produces a bottle of lube. 

 

“Presumptuous,” Stiles smiles turning over so he’s back on his side. “Boy scout?” 

 

“Shut up,” Derek nips at Stiles’ neck. 

 

“I’m only shutting up because I want to get laid,” Stiles says to the air because he can’t see Derek. Derek doesn’t need to look at Stiles’ face to know that he’s smiling. 

 

“Put your legs together,” Derek instructs, rearranging Stiles’ legs just the way he wants them, so that he’s lying on his side, his legs one on top of the other.

 

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Oh,” he says again in understanding. Stiles presses his legs closer together, wiggling about to get comfortable. “Well this is different, but so not unwelcome.”

 

“Good to know,” Derek grins as he gets some lube on his cock, jerking himself a few times to make sure it’s evenly coated. 

 

Derek nudges his cock between Stiles’ legs, pushing in slowly. He can’t help but moan at feeling heat and friction to his cock that’s not done by his _own_ hand. He knows it’s Stiles thighs around his cock, his height, his _scent._ He pushes his dick all the way through before he gets his hand on Stiles’ own cock. 

 

He starts to pull back slowly, letting his cock run on the underside of Stiles’ balls. Stiles gasps turning his head into the pillow so he’s not too loud. “Oh my God,” Stiles babbles. “Do that again.”

 

Derek rocks into the space between Stiles’ thighs a few more times until he drags it out long enough, wants to go faster, harder. 

 

“Hands and knees?” Derek asks and Stiles is all too willing so oblige. 

 

Stiles flips himself over so that he can position himself on his hands and knees, pressing his thighs together again. Derek gets behind Stiles, lining his cock up again and pushing into the space, now much easier and more slick for him to rock in to. 

 

He gets his hands on Stiles’ waist as he starts to fuck into the space between Stiles’ thighs quicker. Stiles moans every time Derek’s dick grazes against Stiles’ balls and Derek revels in the feeling just as much. 

 

“Going to jerk yourself off for me?” Derek asks grunting. 

 

“Going to come all over me?” Stiles asks as he tries to steady himself on one arm so that he can wrap his own fist around his dick. Derek can see Stiles’ arms moving, can hear the slick movement of Stiles’ palms working over his dick. “Going to get come all over my balls and thighs? I know that I’ll smell like you to everyone tomorrow,” Stiles continues.

 

Derek groans listening to Stiles’ words, feeling the hot vice heat from Stiles’ thighs. Derek didn’t actually think he was being subtle by wanting to come all over Stiles rather than _in_ Stiles but just to hear Stiles reaffirm it, to know what Derek really is doing - makes it that much hotter. 

 

“I don’t mind,” Stiles pants, trying to keep up the talk even as he’s getting closer and closer to his own orgasm. “I mean I’m not a werewolf, but I can only imagine what it must be like. Just _seeing_ someone and knowing they just had sex is one thing but being able to _smell,_ I bet that’s a whole other thing.”

 

Derek groans, stuttering his hips to a stop as he comes, spurts of it hitting Stiles’ thigh, running down his thigh and on to the sheets. “Fuck Stiles,” he heaves, resting his forehead on Stiles’ back. His cock twitches a few times, trying to empty all the come and he’s becoming too sensitive but doesn’t want to pull away from the warmth of Stiles. 

 

Derek reaches around, wrapping his own large hand over Stiles as they work together, stroking Stiles until he comes. Derek’s mouthing at the nape of Stiles’ neck, not kissing or leaving hickies - as much as he’d love to - just running his wet lips across. He watches as Stiles starts to shake, his arms about to give out before he freezes. Stiles silent gasps ducking his head as he comes, ropes of come hitting the sheets. 

 

“That’s it,” Derek says into the nape of Stiles’ neck as he keeps Stiles’ hands moving on his spent cock. “That’s it.” 

 

Derek keeps moving Stiles’ cock until Stiles sobs saying he’s too sensitive. Derek smiles placing a final kiss to Stiles’ back, stroking him a few more times before he lets go of Stiles, giving him the break he needs. 

 

“I’ll get you for that,” Stiles half-heartedly grumbles as he falls onto his stomach, not caring about the drying come. Derek definitely doesn’t mind the drying come. So sue him, he likes it dirty - the sex. 

 

“Give it your best shot,” Derek cracks rearranging Stiles just the way he wants before the doze off. It probably would have been smart to put their pants back on considering they _are_ at Derek’s family’s house and they have no qualms about just walking into any room without knocking. As long as they keep the covers on though, they still have their t-shirts on, no one would be none the wiser. 

 

Fortunately someone - probably Talia - told everyone not to disturb Derek and Stiles because when Derek woke up, he woke up because the sun was getting to bright, peaking it’s way through the curtains and _not_ because someone was barging in. 

 

He can feel Stiles still sleeping beside him but as soon as Derek rolls away Stiles grumbles and wakes up as well. This time, Derek’s getting used to the fact that Stiles stretches like a starfish and is able to duck out of the way before he gets another flailing hand to the face. It’s kinda sad that Derek is becoming to Stiles’ weird quirks - or maybe it’s more frightening than sad. 

 

They have a family breakfast - and thankfully Peter is absent from breakfast - so no one comments on the fact that both Stiles and Derek probably smell like come. After that it all becomes a blur as everyone pitches in to start cooking and decorating the house for Laura’s party. Laura and Brian of course don’t have to help, instead Talia shoos them out of the house so that when they come back it’ll be a surprise. 

 

Talia decides to separate Stiles and Derek, sending Derek into the kitchen to help her cook while Jack, Cora and Stiles are given the party decorations and told to go crazy. Peter and his wife go out to buy the alcohol while the kids get to watch TV. When Derek insists that maybe he should help decorate and maybe Cora or his dad help cook she gives him a knowing smile and says no.

 

It’s not because Derek wants to spend all his time with Stiles - not completely anyway - but he just doesn’t trust what Cora or his father might get up to if left alone with Stiles. On the bright side, Peter could have been left alone with Stiles and that’s a fate much worse so maybe his mother doesn’t completely hate him. 

 

“Derek using power tools, now that’s a sight I’d pay to see,” Derek hears Stiles’ voice travel through the house. He groans wondering what Cora and his dad are talking about. He perks his ears up to listen a little better before he ducks out of the kitchen when his mother isn’t looking - even though she’s actually always looking - to find the source of the voices. 

 

“He used to be the carpenter, carving the wood into furniture or decorations for the shop,” Jack boasts proudly.

 

“I’d love to check out the shop,” Stiles nods his head. “Derek didn’t tell me too much about it but it’s all recycled stuff that you make into new things right?”

 

“Up-cycling,” Cora supplies. 

 

“Family business. Until two of my three children decided it wasn’t for them,” Jack shoots Cora and Derek a glare. It’s pretty evident they’re siblings when they both looks down at their feet to avoid the hard gaze of their father. 

 

“Maybe I’ll find something I can get shipped back to LA for mine and Scott’s apartment. Maybe something you made?” Stiles smiles looking at Derek. 

 

“We can go tomorrow,” Jack beams, his good mood returning. 

 

Derek doesn’t get to say much else before his mom is yelling at him to hightail his ass back into the kitchen and help with the quiches. Derek couldn’t even say no if he wanted to. 

 

By 3 PM all the food is cooked and being kept warm. The house is decorated in streamers and a rainbow of balloons that say “Congratulations on your engagement.” Everyone is dismissed being told they can go shower and get ready for the party at 4:30. 

 

When Laura and Brian walk into the house hand-in-hand, everyone yells a mix of surprise and congratulations. Despite the fact that the party is not at all a surprise. But Both Laura and Brian are smiling from ear-to-ear and lean in to place a kiss each other, a quick peck that has everyone cheering and yipping. 

 

Unlike the night before, the house is a lot more crammed with people. With distant relatives, children running around and friends of the pack. As much as Derek would love to keep Stiles by his side so that he doesn’t get ambushed by anyone, Derek loses Stiles. He walks around from room to room looking for Stiles, it’s too hard to try and pick his scent out of a house filled with people.

 

Eventually Derek finds Stiles in a corner talking to Brian and Derek figures of all the people Stiles could be talking to, Brian is definitely the best choice so Derek leaves them to talk, eavesdropping from a few feet away where he won’t be seen. 

 

“Does it ever get hard, being a human dating a werewolf?” Derek hears Stiles ask Brian. Of course Stiles would ask Brian, it’s not like Stiles has a whole list of friends who are dating werewolves. 

 

“Not for me,” Brian smiles taking a swig of his beer. “I grew up in a werewolf family, I was just born human.”

 

“Were you ever jealous?” 

 

“That I wasn’t a werewolf? When I was a kid,” Brian nods his head. “But as I got older you kind of get over it. It’s the same as complaining I wasn’t born with blue eyes or born taller, you know?”

 

“But you can change this,” Stiles muses. “You can get the bite, be turned into a werewolf couldn’t you? 

 

Derek’s ears perk up because he never really thought of Stiles thinking like that. Never thought of Stiles as ever having a general interest in the whole werewolf thing. Sure he has a best friend that’s a werewolf but Derek never gave Stiles’ views much more thought. 

 

“I wouldn’t ever dare it now,” Brian mulls over. “Too old, more likely to die from the bite. Besides we have a little one to think about.”

 

“Oh my God, Laura’s pregnant?” Stiles asks his voice rising in surprise. Brian nods his head with a huge smile plastered on his face.

 

“Is this like a shot gun wedding?” Stiles whispers leaning in closer to Brian as if that’ll help everyone else in the room from not hearing. Derek snickers, shaking his head walking towards the two men.

 

Brian lets out a full belly laugh. “No, Laura and I have been together for years. We were never interested in getting married but when we found out we were expecting we figured we might as well go traditional.”

 

“Well congrats,” Stiles extends his hand to shake Brian’s. “Make sure Derek has a cigar waiting for you in the waiting room.”

 

“None of us smoke,” Derek interrupts coming to stand beside Stiles.

 

“It’s the gesture,” Stiles huffs rolling his eyes but he bumps his shoulder against Derek’s. 

 

A fews hours in, after everyone has eaten the mix of appetisers that Derek and Talia cooked, Jack declares that it’s time for the party games to begin and to partner up. Stiles immediately gravitates towards Derek, while Laura and Brian partner up and everyone else gets their partner.  

 

Jack introduces the first activity as diamond carving time. Talia hands each paired group a large chunk of ice from a large cooler. Jack explains that each team has to carve the best diamond in ten minutes and then he and Talia will be the judge. He yells go and everyone starts chipping away at the ice. 

 

Stiles grabs a hold of one of the chisels while Derek grabs the hammer, and they start to melt and scrape away the ice trying to make the best looking diamond that they can. Five minutes in and it looks like the worlds worst diamond - and considering Derek was meant to be a good at sculpting it’s not at all evident. 

 

“I dare you to lick it,” Stiles grins, having given up trying to make the ice resemble a diamond.

 

“I’m sure that’s not what he wants to lick,” Peter interjects beside them, where he and his wife are busy sculpting their own diamond.

 

Derek scowls, Stiles turns a shade of red and Peter’s wife smacks Peter in the back of the head and tells him to focus. Needless to say, by the end of the diamond sculpting, Derek and Stiles do _not_ win that round. 

 

Since the party is an engagement party/baby shower, the next game is the baby bottle chug. All the adults are given a little baby bottle, filled to the top with alcohol. The werewolves have their special brew so that they can taste the alcohol just as well as the humans - Laura gets to sit this game out and enjoy the spectacle. 

 

When the whistle is blown, everyone has to suck down as much alcohol as they can and the first person to finish their bottle wins. Laura blows the whistle and everyone starts chugging their bottles. Derek makes the mistake of looking over at Stiles, who’s busy away chugging out of his yellow baby bottle and when they make eye contact, Stiles winks, his lips wrapped around the bottle and his cheeks hollowed from sucking.

 

Derek chokes a bit on his baby bottle, spitting some out and sputtering.

 

“You’re out!” Laura yells pointing a finger at Derek. Derek scowls again and tosses his baby bottle to the side. 

 

Peter ends up downing his bottle first and throws his hands up in victory.

 

“Who knew he liked to suck so much,” Stiles mutters and Derek actually snorts at that, a grin tugging at his lips. Peter gives Stiles a knowing look while once again Peter’s wife leans over and this time smacks Stiles upside the head playfully. 

 

Once the games are finished, everyone makes a bet when they think the baby is going to be due, and whether Laura and Brian are going to make it down the aisle before the baby is born. Talia and Jack even have a large piece of paper on an easel writing down everyone’s predictions, ranging from the birth date, the gender and names. 

 

Stiles is happy going along with the rest of the crowd, calling out his predictions and mingling with the rest of Derek’s family that it’s a bit of a shock to him. He never thought he’d meet someone who could get along so easily with his family. Sure, his ex Bobby got along with his family but they never took to him as quickly as they are to Stiles. It’s fucking scary. 

 

“I’ve never been to an engagement party or a baby shower,” Stiles says towelling off his hair when he emerges from the bathroom. Derek’s sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, flicking through channels on the TV not really paying attention, he’d already showered and was waiting for Stiles. “I always thought it was a girls only thing.”

 

“Werewolves,” Derek shrugs like that’s an explanation, shutting off the TV as Stiles gets into bed. 

 

“It’s nice though having such a large family, I bet.”

 

Derek nods his head, remembers Stiles telling him about his family. About him being an only child and it was just his mom and dad before his mom passed away. Stiles came from the complete other side of the spectrum in terms of family size. For most people, coming from a small family, it would be daunting to be surrounded by so many people yet Stiles took to them like a bee to honey. 

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derek asks giving Stiles a puzzled look.

 

Stiles just grins and leans in, kissing Derek off guard. Derek hums, kissing Stiles back, letting Stiles straddle his thighs. He wasn’t expecting this but he’s not about to complain. Stiles pulls away from the kiss to yank at Derek’s shirt, pulling it up over his head and throwing it somewhere. Derek doesn’t have to rid Stiles of his shirt because he’s still only in his boxers, having just got out of the shower. There’s even water droplets running down Stiles’ chest.

 

Derek takes the opportunity to duck his head, sticking his tongue out to catch the water droplets before kissing and sucking at Stiles’ chest. He scrapes his teeth over Stiles’ nipples watching as Stiles shivers. 

 

“What do you want?” Derek asks, still licking and sucking at Stiles’ nipple. His hands gripping Stiles’ ass through his boxers.

 

“Want to know what I really want?” Stiles asks gripping Derek’s head and pulling it back so that Derek will look at him.

 

“No,” Derek replies drily.

 

Stiles just smirks. “I want to rim you.”

 

Derek’s heartbeat picks up, thumping in his chest as Stiles’ words settle in. His dick also starts to harden and Stiles takes advantage of that, grinding his hips down onto Derek’s cock. 

 

“I want to rim you, until your sopping wet and I can fuck you with my tongue. Until I can slip my finger in without any lube. Then when you’re nice and loose I’d fuck you until you forget your own name.” 

 

Derek just knows the way his eyes dilate, watches as Stiles’ eyes mirror Derek’s. This is in unchartered territory for Derek - not the getting fucked part, he loves that - but the letting Stiles fuck him. It was yet another rule he had that he wasn’t going to break. It seemed like with Stiles he was breaking all his own rules and Stiles didn’t even know it.

 

“Yeah,” Derek nods his head. “I want that too.” 

 

“Awesome,” Stiles grins rolling off of Derek so that they can get rid of their boxers. “Lay on your stomach.”

 

Derek complies, rolling onto his stomach, his hard cock trapped between his stomach and the sheets. He scrunches the pillow up so that he can rest his head on it so that he’s comfy, his hands buried under the pillow. Derek stretches his legs so that they're far enough apart that Stiles can nestle in-between comfortable. 

 

“Those jeans you wear to work,” Stiles day dreams. “Fit you so snugly, do you have any idea how amazing your ass looks in them?”

 

Derek doesn’t answer just huffs into the pillow. Stiles pulls Derek’s cheeks apart, so that Derek’s hole is exposed to the cool air. He clenches and unclenches around nothing in anticipation of Stiles finally getting his mouth on Derek. 

 

“You could probably convince an innocent person they were guilty if you just turned around in those pants,” Stiles mulls over.

 

Derek’s about to reply, say something sarcastic but his voice gets strangled when he feels Stiles’ tongue running along the crack. His words are garbled into nothing as Stiles’ tongue circles Derek’s hole, letting spit pool there so it’s spit-slick. Stiles pulls at Derek’s cheek, so that he can get his whole mouth around Derek’s hole and lets his tongue run over it, sucking. 

 

Derek scrunches his eyes shut, his hands gripping the pillow so tightly. His hips try and shift, so that his cock is rubbing against the sheets. Derek can’t help but rut against the sheets, even though it’s not _enough_. He wants to tell Stiles he wants more, but then he just feels the flat of Stiles’ tongue running over his hole, the tip of his tongue trying to work it’s way inside of Derek and the words die on his lips. Then he hears the _sounds_ Stiles is making. The sounds of spit and little moans as if Stiles’ life depends on eating him out. 

 

He can even hear the sound of Stiles’ jerking himself off and that’s the hottest thing Derek’s ever heard. To know that Stiles is just as affected, that eating Derek out turns him on just as much as it turns Derek on. 

 

Derek pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, Stiles moving with him not wanting to take his mouth away from Derek’s ass. Derek pushes back, wanting more of Stiles’ mouth on him like that’s even possible. 

 

Stiles never eases up and Derek gets lost listening to the sounds that Stiles’ is making, the sucking and slurping and Derek knows he’s being just as noisy. Groaning and urging Stiles on, telling him more, more, just like that. Derek starts to shake, the sensation becoming too much as Stiles slips a finger in without needing any lube. The way he crooks his finger, dragging it out and in again, his tongue still working alongside his finger. 

 

Derek starts to shake, despite his werewolf strength he feels like he’s being stripped down raw, his super strength fading away as Stiles works him over. He thinks this is becoming _too_ much, _too_ soon. It’s becoming too hard to separate the lines between business and pleasure. 

 

As Derek’s having this internal crisis, Stiles is none the wiser as he works a second finger in drags them back out, his tongue working in between the two fingers. Derek tries to drown out his feelings, his crisis and he does forget about it all, for a few seconds anyway.

 

He holds himself up on one arm, his hand forming a fist around his cock as he strips is hard and fast knowing his orgasm is only seconds away. He feels him stomach contract, his balls draw up as he starts to come and maybe he _does_ forget his own name for a second, drawing out Stiles’ name as he pulls the last drop of come out. 

 

“Dude, that was hot,” Stiles says wiping his mouth, pulling away from Derek’s ass. 

 

Derek groans, burying his head in the pillow, falling in his own come. He feels Stiles run his hand down Derek’s back in a reassuring gesture. “You okay?”

 

“Good,” Derek says in the pillow. He hadn’t meant to come so early, wanted Stiles to fuck him first, to feel Stiles’ cock in his ass when he came. 

 

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” Stiles asks, kneading Derek’s ass. “Or I could just come on you if you’re spent. I don’t mind either way.”

 

“Just come on me,” Derek mumbles into the pillow. 

 

He feels bad, he knows Stiles just spent however fucking long working his ass open and now Derek’s too drained both emotionally and physically to have Stiles actually fuck him. He knows Stiles held off his own orgasm, only stroking his cock every few minutes and then backing off. But then Stiles says “sounds good,” and he doesn’t even sound upset or angry, he just sounds like he only cares about what Derek wants. 

 

That’s not what Derek wants at all. He liked being the one fucking Stiles, because he could focus all _his_ time and attention on Stiles. Derek enjoys the fuck too, but when Derek spends all his time worrying and attune to what Stiles wants, Stiles doesn’t have the time to reciprocate and that’s what Derek always wanted.

 

Only this time, Stiles spent all _his_ time focusing on what Derek wanted. Stiles took Derek apart with just his tongue and his fingers and that was already proving to be too much for Derek. He’s crossed a line, dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s, into territory he didn’t want to enter. He’s let himself get in too deep, too personal with Stiles and it’s all going to come to an end eventually. It was all _fake_. 

 

He can feel Stiles above him, straddling Derek’s ass as he works his dick over. He can hear Stiles’ heavy breathing, his groans of pleasure. Derek can tell the minute Stiles comes, the way his breath hitches, his heartbeat stutters and the droplets of come falling on to his ass. He feels Stiles’ warm come dropping onto his behind, takes in the _smell_ and the way Stiles smears it around his ass, giving it one final smack before he drops down onto his side of the bed. 

 

“I don’t even have the energy to get up,” Stiles yawns hooking a leg over Derek’s. 

 

“Me either,” Derek says into the pillow. He doesn’t care if he’s going to wake up with dry come on his ass and dry come on his stomach. That’s what hot showers are used for. 

 

He falls asleep with Stiles snuggling in closer under his arm, Stiles’ hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

 

For some bizarre reason - which in Derek’s family is pretty much just the norm - his parents decide that they should spent their Sunday paint balling. Paint balling like they’re all children, so of course Stiles claps his hands in glee saying that’s a fantastic idea. Of course Derek’s family would love the idea of running around in the preserve that their house is built on - chasing each other like _prey._ The thrill of the chase. But then again it beats being cooped up in the house all day.

 

“It’s not fair that I don’t get to play,” Laura pouts standing outside the front of the house as everyone loads their guns with the paintballs. 

 

“Should have thought of that before you got knocked up,” Cora jibes.

 

Jack shoots his paintball right at Cora’s chest and she screeches as everyone else in the family laughs at her. She goes to retaliate against her father but he’s already running off into the woods so Cora throws her gun down, stamping inside to change her shirt so that she’s not automatically out anymore. Brian and Stiles get vests to wear plus their helmets while the werewolves just wear helmets to be safe rather than sorry. 

 

Brian kisses Laura telling her that they’ll get to play again once the baby is born and she can be the referee if she really wants. 

 

Everyone is split in to two teams. Derek and Stiles aren’t on the same team and Stiles grins manically aiming is gun at Derek in the silent: _I’m gunning for you_ and to be frank that’s not all that comforting. 

 

Stiles, Cora and Jack are one one team with other members of the family while Derek, Talia and Brian are on the other team. Laura yells go and everyone scatters off in the woods to find their hiding spots and their own camp before the game really starts. 

 

When Laura yells it’s time again, her voice echoing throughout the forest Derek’s teams split up looking for their rivals. Derek can pick Stiles’ scent out as clear as day now, even in the forest, can smell the mingling of their scents and Derek wants nothing more than to be the one to hunt Stiles down. So okay maybe Derek does understand his families obsession with paint balling and hunting prey, because Derek is _so_ down for it at this moment. 

 

He can hear splats of the paintballs hitting people and the groans as they walk back towards the house. Derek gets a few shots off himself, hitting some of the younger teenagers playing that are on Stiles’ team before they even have a chance to hit Derek. He doesn’t have time to gloat though, wants to find Stiles and possibly his father too, to get him back for all of his wise cracks. 

 

Derek sees Cora come into view and it’s almost too late as she fires her gun at him but he rolls away, blasting his own but it misses Cora. Fortunately Talia is close on Derek’s heel and her gun hits her daughter square in the chest, making her fall to the ground. 

 

“For fuck sakes!” Cora yells up to the sky then looks back down where there’s a bright red paint stain on her shirt.

 

“You’re out!” Talia cheers throwing her gun up in victory. Which is a bad move because Jack creeps out from behind the trees and gets Talia right in the stomach, her white shirt splattered with green paint. Talia looks down horrified that she got bested by her husband. She shoots the gun at him, getting yellow paint on his pants just to be petty because she can’t actually get Jack out now that she’s ‘dead’.

 

Derek’s just about to go after his father when a lone blue paintball comes hurtling at him, landing right on his sternum. Derek stops his running, skidding to a halt to look down at his shirt.

 

“What the fuck?” Derek says and then hears a cackling of laughter. His ears perk up trying to find where the noise is coming from when he realises that it’s coming from _up._ He raises his head up and sees Stiles sitting on a a tree branch with his gun aimed right at Derek, smiling like the devil. He wonders what the fuck is Stiles doing up in a tree like Mowgli from the Jungle Book and how the hell did he get bested by a _human._

 

Brian comes running into the clearing trying to save his teammates but Jack takes the opportunity to hit him straight in his vest before Brian even has a chance to fire. 

 

“Victory!” Stiles shouts as Jack empties his rounds into Derek and Talia just for the hell of it. He scrambles down the tree, landing with a thud as he does a _ridiculous_ happy dance, his hips spasming as he dances around in circles. Jack high-fives Stiles and they both leer at the losing side. Jack and Stiles are apparently _very_ competitive and two peas out of the same pod.

 

Derek is _not_ a sore loser, really. But he just can’t help himself as he lunges towards Stiles and tackles him to the ground as they land in a pile of crunchy leaves and dirt. Stiles lands with an oomph, trying to pull off his helmet. 

 

“Cheater,” Derek says taking off his own helmet. “Who hides in a tree?”

 

“Aw can’t werewolves climb the big bad trees?” Stiles pouts in mockery, his hands go to pet Derek’s face just to be a further little shit but Derek’s quicker.

 

He grabs Stiles’ hands and pins them above his head and Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up in _clear_ interest. He moves his hands a little as if trying to break the death grip Derek has on them and when he can’t get his hands free he bucks his hips up just to enjoy the view of Derek grunting.

 

Stiles is smirking and Derek just can’t have that. He leans down closer and kisses Stiles, filthy and dirty. He demands for Stiles to open up, letting his tongue roam around Stiles’ mouth, his grip tightening on Stiles’ wrists. Stiles is thoroughly on board with this, his hips twitching trying to get friction, his hands flexing like he’s trying to get away but he’s just as much moving in towards the kiss.

 

“Cheater,” Derek reiterates pulling away with a smug look on his face when he sees that Stiles is flushed and definitely, turned on. Not that Derek isn’t just as turned on but he likes being able to tease Stiles.

 

Stiles huffs pushing Derek off of him and Derek outstretches his hand to help Stiles up. Once they’ve dusted the leaves and dirt off of their clothes and turn around, they come face-to-face with the majority of Derek’s family. They’re all smiling just as smug, their arms crossed with raised eyebrows. Brian is the only one that seems to have the decency to look ashamed. Brian may have grown up with werewolves but he understands what it’s like to have _no_ privacy.

 

Stiles is bright red beside him and Derek’s sure he looks the same. Derek huffs, throwing his arms around Stiles’ shoulder and leads them back towards the house ignoring his families faint laughters and Cora’s muttered ‘horn dogs.’ 

 

When they get back to the house everyone breaks up to head to the shower to get the sweat and grime off of them before they have lunch and head to the family store so that Stiles can see all the up-cycling furniture and knick-knacks they make. 

 

This time, Stiles doesn’t offer to let Derek go in the shower first. He grabs at Derek’s wrist once their bedroom door clicks shut and drags him to the shower. Derek closes the bathroom door as Stiles turns the shower on to heat up. He walks back towards Derek and tugs at Derek’s shirt to get it off before going for his shorts. 

 

“These shorts are ridiculous,” Stiles mutters pulling them down. “Basketball shorts should be illegal,” which just means Stiles loves them, loves the way that Derek looks in them.

 

Derek snorts pulling Stiles’ shirt off of him before he even has time to stand back up. He tugs at Stiles’ track pants pulling them down and dropping them with the rest of the dirty clothes. 

 

“You liked it?” Derek asks wetting his thumb with his spit and wiping a smudge off of Stiles’ cheek. It’s a motherly thing really, but Stiles’ eyes flutter shut feeling Derek’s thumb skid across his cheek. “Being held down back out in the preserve?” Derek’s pretty sure he knows the answer already, but hey communication is necessary. 

 

“You caught on to that huh?” Stiles half laughs, opening his eyes again to look at Derek. Derek removes his thumb from Stiles’ face and pushes Stiles gently towards the now steaming shower. They get in and Derek pulls the shower curtain across so that the heat stays in. He’s feeling pretty damn hot enough as it is but still.

 

“Unfortunately I think my whole family caught on to that,” Derek muses looking glum. 

 

“You started it,” Stiles points out just to be a dick. Stiles is smiling bright as he grabs for the bottle of soap Derek uses, squirting some out onto his hand. 

 

Derek’s breath stutters as Stiles gets his hands on him. He runs his hands down Derek’s chest, getting it nice and soapy, spending more time than necessary rubbing over Derek’s nipples just to hear the little gasps he pulls out of Derek. He moves his hands lower, getting soap in Derek’s happy trail and then he runs those soapy warm hands over Derek’s half hard cock. 

 

Stiles smiles when it jerks in his hand, wrapping his hand around Derek’s cock, stroking it and getting it soapy. Stiles spends a few minutes stroking until Derek’s fully erect before he lets go, letting it bob toward Derek’s stomach. He runs his hands along Derek’s balls, then spins Derek around to wash his back. Running his fingers across Derek’s tattoo, tracing the pattern. He runs his hands over Derek’s ass, his finger slipping into the crack prodding at Derek’s hole.

 

Derek grunts, bracing his hand on the side of the shower wall to support himself but Stiles doesn’t make any more moves to finger Derek, just teases. When Derek turns back around Stiles bends down to soap the rest of Derek’s body.

 

It’s methodical yet fucking _sexual._ Stiles runs his fingers through the wiry hair on Derek’s legs, massaging his thighs as he goes and Derek doesn’t even try and hide the fact that his legs are wavering, he feels like they’re suddenly made out of noodles. Stiles runs his hands firmly down the rest of Derek’s legs applying just enough pressure for it to feel like a massage. 

 

Stiles even soaps Derek’s feet, his _toes_ and Derek so does not have a foot fetish or anything but seeing Stiles soap his feet is fucking turning him on like there’s no tomorrow. Derek can also see that Stiles is just as turned on, his own hard cock resting against his belly but Stiles is ignoring his cock. It transports Derek back to the night before, when Stiles was paying all this attention to Derek, and it’s becoming _too_ much again but Derek can’t find it in himself to haul Stiles up, to focus all his attention on Stiles so Stiles forgets about pleasing Derek. Derek _wants_ this. 

 

“You look like the abominable snowman,” Stiles smiles standing back up. He unhooks the removable shower head from against the wall and starts to hose Derek down. He traces his hands back over where he’s soaped and his hands feel fiery hot on Derek’s body like it’s leaving a brand. He gets all the soap off of Derek’s body making sure there’s not a soapsud in sight.

 

Before Derek can even return the favour, to soap up and lavish as much attention on Stiles as Stiles lavished on him Stiles is back down on his knees again. He looks up at Derek, his eyes questioning and who is Derek to say no? He nods his head and Stiles makes a grab for Derek’s cock, pumping it a few more times. 

 

“You can, you know…” Stiles shrugs as he wraps his mouth around Derek’s cock. 

No Derek _doesn’t_ know but once Stiles is sucking on the head of Derek’s dick, Stiles grabs a hold of one of Derek’s hands and directs it towards his head and _oh._ So Stiles really was in to the whole being held down thing.

 

Derek instantly tightens his hands into Stiles’ hair, gripping firmly enough despite Stiles’ hair being soaking wet now. He pushes his cock farther into Stiles’ mouth, slow at first as Stiles takes more and more of it into his mouth. He pushes a little more until Stiles’ chokes around his cock and Derek instantly loosens his grip, pulling away.

 

“No no, it’s okay, keep going. Please,” Stiles says over a few coughs but he looks back up at Derek and he really means it. Derek nods his head and Stiles wraps his mouth around Derek’s hard cock again.

 

This time when Derek pushes his dick farther in he stops when Stiles gags but doesn’t pull out. He waits a few beats before Stiles’ hand on Derek’s ass squeezes the fleshy meat of the skin and Derek pushes farther in. It takes a little while but eventually Stiles’ face is right against Derek’s groin, the whole cock in his mouth.

 

Derek pulls out a little and pushes back in, can hear the way Stiles chokes a little but Stiles just urges him on more. Derek repeats the action, fucking into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles hands squeeze and grab onto Derek’s ass like he wants _more_ and it only spurs Derek on more. 

 

Stiles moans around his cock, one of his hands reaching down to stroke himself at a furious pace and it’s fucking perfect. Derek wants to shut his eyes, just feel like way Stiles’ lips wrap around his cock, the way his tongue runs on the underside of his dick but he also doesn’t want to miss Stiles’ face, the way he looks like he was made for this. 

 

“You _were_ made for this,” Derek says out loud and it only makes Stiles moan more, Stiles’ hand working his own cock even faster. 

 

Derek can feel the minute Stiles’ come hits his feet, being washed away down the drain and it only causes Derek’s hips to stutter, his hands gripping Stiles’ hair that much tighter as he comes. Stiles tries to take it all, swallow as much as he can, but some dribbles out the sides of his mouth along with some spit before that too is going down the drain. 

 

Stiles kisses at the head of Derek’s cock one last time, collecting the last few drops of come before he stands back up. He’s barely got a minute to breath before Derek’s attacking his mouth, kissing and licking trying to get the taste of _Stiles_ and his own come. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Stiles breaths as Derek takes the soap and starts to wash Stiles’ body. Derek just smiles as he pays as much attention to soaping and washing Stiles’ body as Stiles did for him.

 

By the time they get out of the shower they look like prunes and probably used up all the hot water. If the way Derek’s family looks, still pretty grungy from the paint balling and slightly pissed off is any indication. _Oh well_. They can wait a few more minutes for the hot water to get turned back on. Derek is on cloud nine and he could care less about who else got to shower plus, he’s starving. 

 

After lunch everyone barrels into a bunch of different cars to head into town to the family store. Hales’ Up-cycling. The store is closed considering it’s a family weekend for everyone to celebrate Laura’s engagement and pregnancy but it’s all the better so that the family can show Stiles’ around the store without any other annoying customers. 

 

“We have people flying in from all around the country to look at our stuff,” Jack beams as he flicks on all the lights. 

 

The store is in a large abandoned factory. There’s even a fucking abandoned train car in the back of the factory that’s used as the break room for the employees. Off to one side, which is barricaded from the rest of the store is the work area with power tools strewn around and scraps of metal and wood piled high.

 

The rest of the area is covered with various pieces of furniture and knick-knacks made out of recycled plastic, old doors, old shopping carts, pieces of cars basically _anything_ you can imagine someone throwing out - short of dirty diapers and gross stuff like that.

 

“Wow,” Stiles says in awe his eyes darting around the whole store. He walks from one piece to another, touching them, bending down to get a better look. “I never knew you could make such nice stuff out of… well garbage!” 

 

“That’s the point,” Talia smiles. “Why throw out perfectly good stuff when it can be reused?” 

 

“Plus it beats shopping at Ikea where everyone buys the same thing” Laura supplies, one arm around Brian the other running over her pregnant belly. “Dad is making me an up-cycled baby crib from old chester drawers. Though he won’t let me see it yet.”

 

“That’s because it’s a present,” Jack scoffs. 

 

“I’m afraid to say that most of my stuff in my apartment is from Ikea,” Stiles says looking sheepish. He walks off towards another end of the store looking at everything.

 

“Lame-o,” Cora calls.

 

Derek follows behind Stiles, watching as Stiles look over everything. Stiles stops to look at one of the pieces of furniture, clearly very interested.

 

It’s the tailgate door part of an old pick up truck used to stop things rolling out of the flatbed, with the Chevrolet logo, painted red but some of the paint peeling. The tailgate is resting on mismatching car rims, with what looks like little door stops poking out from the rims and resting on the ground so that it’s sturdy. It’s a low-rising table, more like a coffee table. 

 

“Dude how much is this?” Stiles asks running his fingers along the raised Chevrolet logo. “This would look so badass in mines and Scott’s apartment.” 

 

“You want it?” Jack asks coming up to stand on the other side of the table. “It’s yours. On the house.”

 

“What? No!” Stiles shrieks. “You put a lot of time and effort into this. How much?”

 

“I didn’t put any effort into this,” Jack smiles looking at Derek. “Derek made it.”

 

“You did?” Stiles shrieks again wheeling around to look at Derek who’s still standing behind him. “That is seriously amazing Derek. What the hell are you doing working at the agency?”

 

“Tell me about it,” Jack interrupts.

 

Derek huffs because he’s not _yet again_ having this conversation with his father. But Stiles is still looking at him so amused and Derek maybe, just maybe, preens a little at the attention and awe Stiles is directing his way. 

 

“It was really nothing,” Derek shrugs trying to play for modest on the outside.

 

“The hell it’s nothing. My dad used to have an old pick up just like this before he sold it for a ‘family car’ but I have a picture sitting on the hood, him holding me up when I was a baby.” 

 

“Why don’t we go write down your address and I’ll get this shipped out as soon as I can. It may take a while,” Jack says leading Stiles towards the office area. 

 

Derek takes one last look at the coffee table he made, smug that Stiles is going to have something he made in his house, to remind him of Derek. He always knew he was pretty good, liked working with tools and making stuff - it just wasn’t what he wanted to do for a _living._ He preferred it as a hobby. 

 

After one last family dinner that night, Derek and Stiles are packing their bags back into Derek’s car ready for the drive back to LA. As much as Derek avoids coming down to see his family as often as he probably should, he had a good time. It was good seeing Laura, seeing her pregnant tummy, and his mom and her home-cooked food and even his father with his crazy antics. He could have survived without seeing Peter though. 

 

“You really must come back down for the wedding Stiles,” Laura insists, hugging Stiles as they all stand around the car. Talia nods her head in agreement. 

 

That’s when Derek has a moment to freeze, let everything catch up with him. This weekend he’s been living in a bubble, ignoring his work at the agency, ignoring his entire life in LA - but now it all comes rushing back. Stiles won’t be around when the wedding rolls around. He’ll either be in jail because he is a part of the murders or he and Derek will have broken up because he’s no longer a suspect.

 

Derek doesn’t think he’d be lucky enough to keep dating Stiles if he is cleared of the charges. He couldn’t go that long, that far into a ‘real relationship’ when it all started out on a lie. Even if Isaac, Erica and Boyd never said anything, somehow the truth would slip out. It’s better to cut your losses early. 

 

He only has a few seconds for it to all filter through his mind before he sees Stiles just smiling and looking at Derek. The rest of Derek’s family all hug Stiles and Derek, telling them to have a safe journey home and they really hope they can see the two of them soon.

 

“Uh hello, I’m going back to LA too,” Cora glowers, her hands on her hips - clearly not impressed that her brother and Stiles are getting all the attention. 

 

“Of course honey, you come back and visit soon,” Talia smiles hugging her daughter. Cora rolls her eyes, knows she was the after thought but she still hugs her family goodbye.

 

“Try not to ditch me on the freeway again,” Cora shouts to Derek as she slides into her car.

 

Once they’re back out in the high way, heading back to LA, getting darker outside, Stiles pats Derek’s thigh.

 

“I had a good time this weekend, thanks. I had no idea what it was like coming from such a large family.” 

 

“No problem. I had a good time too,” Derek says half distracted, his mind shifting back to his LA life and not his Beacon Hills life. He presses down on the gas, driving faster back towards LA, forgetting about Cora trailing in the car behind him.

 

He doesn’t think about how he’d much rather turn the car around, stay in Beacon Hills with Stiles and pretend LA and their lives there don’t exist. Derek’s pretty sure he’d get arrested for harbouring a fugitive anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

“How was the weekend back in ol’ BH?” Isaac asks the monday after the weekend, sitting in the debriefing room. 

 

“Did they suspect anything?” Boyd asks. 

 

“Let me guess. Your dad loves Stiles, Laura invited him back and Talia was as gracious as ever,” Erica adds. 

 

“Fine. No they didn’t suspect anything and yes, they loved Stiles,” Derek answers all three of them in one sentence. He leans back in his chair again and looks up at the ceiling in hopes that, _that_ will get his friends to shut up. Fat chance. 

 

“It’s over with now,” Boyd tries to be helpful. “Your family will understand when you two magically break up.”

 

Derek snorts in reply. There’s no way his family would understand now. They’d probably still rather Stiles at the family holiday meals rather than Derek. 

 

“Oh my God,” Erica gasps, the legs of her chair scraping against the ground as she turns it fully around to face Derek. “Tell me you’re not actually _falling_ for the guy.”

 

“What? No,” Derek startles sitting up to shoot Erica a look. It fails.

 

Boyd whistles shaking his head and Isaac groans beside him.

 

“Oh honey,” Erica sighs. “There’s no way this is going to end well, for any one of you.”

 

“Listen I don’t know what you think you know is -”

 

Derek doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as Chris walks into the room and it’s probably for the better that he didn’t get to finish said sentence because he knows it would be useless. Not only would he be lying to other werewolves who could call him out on it, but he’d also be lying to the people that are basically his _pack_ while he lives in LA. Well, he’s already lied to one set of his family members, why not lie to his best friends while he’s at it. 

 

“Any news for us Hale?” Chris asks, starting the meeting.

 

“Nothing. Stilinski didn’t slip up, didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. I think it’s a bust,” Derek goes back to calling Stiles by his last name - distance himself from the ‘relationship’ he has with Stiles and veer it back towards Stiles being the suspect.

 

“Maybe it is for the best we lean towards finding other suspects - it’s been far too long, the trail might have gone cold by now,” Chris says angrily and Derek has to try not to roll his eyes at his boss. Because hello? Derek has been saying that for the past _how long_ now? 

 

Someone knocks on the door to the debriefing room, and whatever it’s about or whoever it is - it must be important - because no one interrupts the morning debriefings unless there’s a crime in progress or a break in a case. A small woman, with large glasses and her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck enters when Chris says it’s alright. Derek’s pretty sure her name is Tabitha but she’s normally down in the labs so Derek doesn’t see her often or know her all that well.

She hands Chris a folder, whispering something to him and then scurries out of the room again before Chris snaps at her for interrupting. Chris frowns opening the folder, his eyes scanning over the contents before he looks up again, his eyes twinkling. Kate is behind him trying to read what’s in the folder as well. 

“Not a complete break in the case but it’s a start. This,” he says holding up the folder, “is the chemical break down of the Wolfsbane found in Stilinski’s possession on the night of the first murder. We were having trouble breaking down what the Wolfsbane was actually infused with, the department in New York was having the same problem with Wolfsbane found in the deceased bodies over there. We got a sample from New York couriered and it’s a match with the one found on Stilinski’s body.”

There’s a murmur throughout the room, some of the other agents nodding their heads and taking note. Derek doesn’t know what exactly to think.

“So what does that mean boss?” Boyd asks. 

“It could be something, it could be nothing,” Chris nods his head. “If we can find out who supplied the Wolfsbane than we can narrow it down. A witch or any underground herbal shop could easily be mass supplying the blend. Or it could be coming from the perpetrators of the crime. Until then, Stilinski and McCall are still our main suspects.”

Derek’s stomach clenches, and he feels his stomach give out like he’s on a roller coaster. There’s no way Stiles is actually responsible is it? But then how does that explain the Wolfsbane he had being the carbon copy of the Wolfsbane being used in the deaths back in New York? 

“Shouldn’t we bring them in again?” Boyd asks. “Confront them and tell them we know the Wolfsbane matches that of the murders in New York.”

Chris looks like he’s contemplating it when Kate cuts in.

“No. We need to catch them mid-act for it to stick.” 

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” Boyd raises his eyebrows at Kate then looks to Chris to override his sister. 

“We do need to be certain,” Chris hedges looking between his sister and Boyd. “If we tip them off we know the Wolfsbane matches, we may never break the case.” 

Derek grinds his teeth together, sick of this meeting, sick of everything being said. He doesn’t know what the fuck to believe anymore. 

“Lets go,” Isaac says breaking Derek out of his thoughts when Chris declares the meeting over and to get working on the case. Isaac drags Derek out of the room and back to their desks. 

“He can’t have done it,” Derek mutters sitting down in his chair looking off into space. 

“The blend is a match,” Isaac counters looking sheepish and uncomfortable. “Chris is right though, it could have been a mass supplied blend.”

“If it was being mass supplied it wouldn’t have been that hard for the lab to decompose what it was made of. Not just any witch could brew something like that and hide the traces.” 

“Until we know-” 

“-Derrreeek,” a voice sing songs and Derek’s hackles rise. He knows who it is. Can smell the stench of her perfume that’s overpowering, can hear the click of her heels on the ground. 

“Leave,” Derek mutters under his breath to Isaac. 

Isaac doesn’t protest, just gives Derek one last long look before he gets up and presumably goes to look for Boyd and Erica. There’s no doubt he’s going to tell them about this. 

Kate saunters up and leans her ass against Derek’s desk so she can look at him. She could have easily sat in Isaac’s chair, his desk is pushed together with Derek’s so they can see each other easily - but she’s trying to annoy him, get under his skin. It’s working.

“What are you doing down here with the lowly hard working agents?” Derek sighs. “Shouldn’t you be in your office doing absolutely nothing.”

“Now now,” Kate tuts. “You already know I’m the best hunter around. I don’t need to waste my time with petty crimes.”

“What do you want?” 

“An update on the case,” she smiles her fingers clutching the edge of the desk. Derek can see her long, red painted nails. Remembers when they used to scratch down his back, leaving scratch marks in its wake the few seconds it takes Derek to heal. He _doesn’t_ want to remember the way Kate felt against him, the way she moans, the way she wraps her legs around Derek. It’s nothing worth remembering.

“Weren’t you paying attention in the debriefing?”

“Oh but I want all the juicy details you can’t share with my dear brother in the room.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon now Derek,” Kate purrs. “You’ve been ‘dating’ this Stiles guy for quite a while now. I have no doubt you two have slept together. So tell me, is he any good?” 

Derek ignores her about to push his chair and get up but Kate lays a hand on his chest and pushes him back down. He growls at her but that only spurs her on, makes her smile that much bigger. 

“Does he suck that cock of yours nicely? Is he bad in bed?” 

“He sure as hell isn’t selfish in bed, unlike you.”

Derek didn’t mean to say that, didn’t mean to confirm or deny that he _is_ having sex with Stiles. But Kate knows just how to get under his skin, it’s one of the very few talents that she has. He pushes her palm off of his chest with more force than necessary and stands up. He’s not going to sit around and listen to whatever bullshit Kate wants to spew. 

“Sleeping with the enemy just to break a case. That’s dedication,” Kate yells to Derek’s retreating form.

He tamps down the part of him that wants to stalk back towards her, to do _something, anything_ to get her to shut up. He just keeps walking, heading across the street to the diner where he knows Isaac, Erica and Boyd will be waiting. At least there, they’re safe from the annoying wrath of Kate Argent. Derek regrets more and more the day he decided to fall into bed with Kate. 

**

Derek avoids Stiles all that week after their trip back to Beacon Hills. He doesn’t mean to pull away exactly, but he doesn’t know how to face Stiles without tripping up and just straight up asking if Stiles and Scott are involved. He wonders whether Chris has told Allison anything, whether her and Scott are still dating. 

Luckily, Stiles doesn’t seem to mind so much, content with just the texting back and forth. Stiles says he’s just as busy at work as well, now that he’s finally getting to fire guns and tests the ballistics and not just file out paperwork anymore. Now he’s more than happy to stay later at work just to get all the experience and so Derek has his excuse of having to work late as well. 

He ignores the calls he gets from his mom and dad because he just knows they’ll ask about Stiles and he doesn’t have the energy to lie to them. Even if it is over the phone, he’s sure his voice will betray them and they’ll ask what’s wrong. Derek doesn’t need to have a break down over the phone. No thank you. 

**

Stiles and Scott planned to have a bro day all day saturday. Scott said Allison had to work and Derek told Stiles that he had to work - which meant the best friends were free to have their day together to play video games, pig out on food and not do much of anything really.

Then, Scott gets a call form his idiotic friends from school saying that need to meet up at the library and work on their group project because one of them lost all their work they’d already done. Scott looks sheepish and sad when he tells Stiles the news on Saturday morning.

Stiles rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “Go. It’s not like you’re ditching me for your girlfriend after you promised bro day, because then I’d be pissed.”

“You’re the best,” Scott grins. “Pizza on me tonight when I get back.”

“I’m holding you to that!” Stiles yells at the shut front door that Scott just ran out of. 

Well, now Stiles has nothing to do. No best friend, and no boyfriend - who’s stuck at work. He hasn’t made that many friends at work, he’s still getting to know them and he wouldn’t be comfortable calling one of them to hangout last minute. Not to mention most of them are older, married or in serious relationship and probably already have plans. 

He plops down on the couch in the family room, turning on the TV just to have some background noise while he opens a book. He hasn’t had time to read in _ages_ what with having a job now, a boyfriend and a very active sex life. Reading just kind of fell to the wayside but now he has a full day to himself.

Stiles is about an hour into reading, his eyes starting to droop when there’s a knock on the door. He startles himself fully awake, wondering who it is. He hasn’t done any midnight shopping on Amazon, Derek’s at work - maybe Scott forgot his key. He tosses his book on the couch beside him and gets up to answer the door. He was not expecting Allison. 

“Oh hey. Scott isn’t here you know? But you knew that already,” Stiles tilts his head to the side examining Allison and she looks a little, _off._ “And you’re supposed to be at work aren’t you?”

When she doesn’t answer Stiles invites her inside, pretty damn confused on what the hell is going on. 

She’s barely inside and Stiles has only just shut the door when she blurts out, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Stiles falters as he locks the door. He turns around, his eyes like flying saucers as he takes Allison in. She’s biting her lip and wringing her hands together, clearly a nervous wreck. 

“Have you - you - have you told Scott?” Stiles fumbles over his words.

“No! Of course not,” Allison freaks out turning on her heels and walks a little way before she turns back around and walks back towards Stiles. “I’m not even positive that I am yet.”

“Oh okay?” Stiles asks. He would tell Allison to sit down but she looks too worked up about it and Stiles doesn’t think he’d be able to sit still either now. 

“I need to go to the store and buy a test. Will you - will you go with me?” 

“Me?” Stiles asks, his turn to screech. His hands fly to his chest as if to further reiterate that is Allison sure she means him? “Why not Lydia?” 

Allison deflates. “Lydia is my best friend but she’d judge me, tsk me and go on about protection and all that and that’s the last thing I need right now. I’m sorry to dump this all on you,” Allison frets. 

“Hey it’s okay,” Stiles reassures, bringing Allison into an awkward hug. “I’ll come to the store with you but I’m not comfortable lying to Scott so if you have news you need to tell him _asap._ ” 

“Okay,” Allison sniffs, nodding her head. “But if I’m _not_ pregnant you can’t tell him, you can’t tell _anyone._ It’s kind of embarrassing enough as it is.”

Stiles huffs a laugh but nods his head in agreement. “Deal.” 

“Plus you definitely can’t tell Derek before he tells my dad!”

“Noted,” Stiles snorts. “Scott practically threw a town parade when he found out I first had sex. I know the embarrassment.” 

They drive in Allison’s car to the nearest place that they can find that sells pregnancy tests but also somewhere they won’t ever go again, so no one knows who they are. The last thing Stiles needs is people gossiping that he got his best friends girlfriend pregnant - because well, that’s just awkward and _gross._

They find a random convenience store half way between their town and LA and decide to pull in there and look. They walk up and down the aisles until they come to the ladies aisle, with tampons, pads, and then the section with condoms, lube and pregnancy tests. 

Allison grabs a pregnancy tests and hurries to the cashier to pay for it. The guy behind the counter looks up, his eyebrow raised in a judgemental way as his eyes move from Stiles to Allison. He then shakes his head and rings up the test through the register.

Stiles has to resist the urge to say ‘I’m not the one that got her pregnant’ but he doubts that dude behind the counter will even believe him anyway.

“Is there a bathroom in here?” Allison asks.

The guy snorts and nods his head towards the back of the store, he hands her they key to open the bathroom. Stiles follows her to the back of the store and just hangs about looking at postcards while he waits. 

“This is very Juno of us,” Stiles comments as he turns the postcard display.

“That’s not helping,” Allison calls through the bathroom door. 

“Sorry, I talk when I’m nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about I’m not potentially about to be a father. Well I am potentially about to be an uncle. I’d be a totally cool uncle though I don’t know how well I’d be with babysitting…”

“Stiles,” Allison hisses through the bathroom door.

“Right. Shutting up now.”

Stiles purses his lips together as he continues to pretend to be totally interested in the postcard display. He wonders if his father would appreciate a postcard with the typical LA scene saying ‘wish you were here.’ He then wonders if there’s any ‘congratulations you’re about to be a a grandmother’ card for Melissa. Not that she’d be impressed about finding out she’s about to have a grandchild through a postcard. 

Hell Stiles’ dad would feel just as much as a grandfather because he thinks of Scott as his own son. Especially after the first time Stiles told his dad he was gay, the first thing that came out of his mouth was ‘ _I’m never going to get any grandchildren am I?’_ Stiles has spluttered for a few minutes before he pointed out, adoption. His father waved his hand dismissively and that’s how the story of how Stiles came out happened. 

He’s seriously about to pick out a postcard to buy when the bathroom door opens and Allison steps out. She isn’t holding the pregnancy stick in her hand and so Stiles doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. 

“So?” Stiles questions with wide eyes.

“I’m not pregnant,” she says and relief floods through Stiles. He’s too young to be an uncle. 

“Hey that’s fantastic!”

“Maybe I should take another one just to be sure?”

“Maybe you should take three, do you have enough pee for three?” 

“Stiles,” Allison rolls her eyes but she picks up another pregnancy test and pays for it. This time the cashier doesn’t say anything, because, hey he’s getting business. She rushes back to the bathroom and this time Stiles isn’t as nervous, doesn’t feel the need to ramble.

“Okay, so not pregnant,” Allison smiles the second time she comes out of the bathroom. She hands the key back to the cashier.

Stiles throws a box of cherry flavoured condoms at Allison’s head. “I still think you should buy these. God, I’m so happy that’s one less thing I need to worry about, _pregnancy._ ” 

She laughs putting the condoms back before she turns to Stiles.

“You are dating a werewolf,” she points out quietly. “They can get pregnant.”

“What? No they can’t,” Stiles huffs. “I think I’d know if my best friend, who by the way is a werewolf, could get pregnant.”

“It’s not like Scott’s been sleeping with any guys has he?” Allison puts her hands on her hips. 

“What?” Stiles screeches this time his voice reaching a decibel only dogs could hear. “I didn’t know that, how would I know that? No one told me this. Oh my God I’m too young to be a father!”

When Stiles is finished having his own mini freak out he looks to Allison who has her hand up to her mouth trying to cover her smile. When Stiles’ eyes widen in realisation she bursts out laughing, running out of the store.

“Hey you’re going to wish you were pregnant! Because then I couldn’t do this,” Stiles chases after her bringing her into a headlock. She bursts into an even louder fit of laughter before she breaks free of Stiles’ grip like it was nothing.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you teach self defence.” 

They get into the car, Stiles still driving Allison’s car even though she’s over her initial freak out of being potentially pregnant, Stiles drums on the steering wheel, turning to Allison. 

“What do you say we make a day of it if you don’t have anywhere to be? Otherwise I’ll just be at home sitting on my ass bored out of my mind.”

“Gee thanks Stiles. Sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“You know what I mean,” Stiles counters. “Unless you enjoy sitting around home doing nothing.”

“I don’t,” Allison assures Stiles. “Lets make a day of it!”

They get back onto the Golden State Freeway heading away from Los Angeles in search of something to do, go on a mini adventure for the day. They keep driving for a while when Allison sees a sign for a strip mall and demands that Stiles pull in. Stiles groans the whole time, even as he’s finding a parking space. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he actually enjoys shopping. But Allison has fun, spends a few hours going from store to store and even tries to pick out a few things for Stiles, which Stiles refuses. Except the cool, funky multi-coloured socks that Allison chose, because those are actually cool - and all his other socks have holes in it.

There’s even an old movie rental store that’s going out of business and is having a huge closing sale. They spend more than a little while in there as Stiles collects a whole stack of DVD’s that he wants to buy for a discounted price - because it’s not like he actually needs to pay rent this month right? Not that Scott would agree with that notion. But Stiles is a little bit of a shit, and charges the DVD’s to his fathers credit card that’s for ‘emergencies’ only, and Stiles will just tell his dad it can be his early Christmas present to him. 

When they’re back on the freeway they drive aimlessly around finding something to do, not wanting anything to be planned. Allison is in charge of the radio and her taste in music is basically the same as Stiles’ and Stiles admires that so lets her have free region of the radio - even if it is _her_ car. If Stiles were straight and Scott wasn’t his best friend, he might just marry Allison. He tells her as much and she giggles, patting his hand and saying that’s sweet. 

They eventually see a sign on the highway directing them to a petting zoo and Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice to take that turn. They feed the llamas and goats, even get to see some ponies. There’s even turkeys running around, chicken and sheep. Stiles frets because he forgot his phone back at the apartment, but Allison takes her out and they snap picture of each others feeding the animals, some of Stiles running away from a turkey chasing him. They even get some together as they board the train ride - that’s really meant for children. But no one tells them to get off, just gives them dirty looks. Whatever.

By the time late evening has fallen it’s getting chilly and the whole car smells like a petting zoo. 

“That was way too fun,” Stiles beams starting the car up. 

“It was,” Allison agrees grinning. “Want to get some dinner? My treat for dragging you out today.”

“Sounds good.”

They pull into the first restaurant they see off the highway, way too hungry to be picky. As long as the place doesn’t look like they serve roadkill than it’s good enough for the both of them. 

By the time that they get back to Echo Park and their apartment, it’s nearly midnight. Allison tells Stiles she had a good time and thanks again for going with her, and remember it was a secret! Stiles rolls his eyes and says his lips are sealed, but he totally had a good time too and they should hangout again sometime, with Scott too of course. 

When he gets into the apartment, it’s dark and Scott’s door is closed which means he’s probably sleeping. Grandpa - it’s not even midnight. Stiles doesn’t even bother to search for his phone that’s probably still out on the couch and falls onto the bed exhausted. His bed is definitely going to smell like a petting zoo as well, but he can change the sheets in the morning. 

**

Derek’s home from a long day of work and thankfully he has all of Sunday off. He’s in bed sleeping when his phone goes off. He contemplates ignoring it but it’s his work ring tone which means that he can’t. Even if he did, he knows his partner, Isaac would pick up the phone and then Isaac will keep calling until he picks up. 

“What?” Derek grits into the phone. He doesn’t care if it’s Chris on the phone or the president of the whole damn agency. It’s his night off now and he just wants to _sleep._

“Derek,” Chris says down the line. “There’s been another murder, same M.O as the Kali club murder. Get to the scene immediately, let the CSI guys process and see what you can pick up. I’m sending you the address.” 

“Fuck,” Derek says to no one in particular as he gets out of the warmth of his bed. He puts on the first pair of jeans he can find and a t-shirt, putting his jacket and boots on as he rushes out the door and to his car. He follows the directions to the location of the murder and by the time he gets there he sees Isaac’s car pulling up.

This time, the crime scene isn’t at a bar or anywhere even remotely populated. It’s in a sketchy area, the body lying face down in mucky water just on the outskirts of a sewer tunnel. It’s not exactly the kind of place a body should _normally_ be found so quickly.

“Who called it in?” Derek asks Isaac who just finished talking to one of the CSI guys.

“Some dude strung out on crack,” Isaac shrugs. “About to go clear him as a suspect. Want to join?” 

Derek’s about to shake his head no, say he’s going to have a look around the crime scene with the CSI guys when he sees Chris’ car pull up to the scene. He falters for a second, making sure his eyes are seeing properly. Chris Argent never shows up to crime scenes, not now that he’s head of the West Coast Agency, instead he dictates orders and does the boring paperwork behind the scenes. 

“Where’s Stiles?” Chris asks striding up to Derek.

“I don’t know?” Derek says scrunching up his eyebrows.

“Process the scene,” Chris orders. “I’m calling Boyd and Erica to go find Stiles and Scott, keep tabs on them from a distance. We need to know whether it was him again or if he knows who did.”  

Derek nods his head dumbly turning towards the crime scene when Chris speaks up again. 

“Go find him tomorrow, engage him but don’t let him know about the murders.”

Derek walks around the crime scene, taking pictures and notes as he lets the guys bag any evidence they find. He sniffs around, trying to pick up Stiles’ scent or any familiar scent but he doesn’t pick up on anything but death and garbage. It’s not that hard to cover a scent, not these days, and whoever is the ones murdering these people, they’re clearly not amateurs so they _would_ know how to cover it. 

**To: Boyd**

**Did you find Stiles?**

Derek can’t resist texting Boyd to get some information. Only when he gets answers will he finally answer. 

**From: Boyd**

**Staked outside his and McCall’s apartment. Two heartbeats inside. Don’t know how long they’ve been in there. Where’s the crime scene?**

Derek texts him the location of the crime scene and he mentally tries to work out how long it would take for Stiles to get from the crime scene and back again to his house and whether he had enough time to do it. 

**From: Boyd**

**20 mins from their apartment to crime scene. Think they had long enough?**

Derek curses under his breath and shoves his phone back in his pocket. Until they know the exact time of death they won’t know if Stiles did have enough time to kill someone and get back to his apartment unseen. They’ll also have to get Danny to track Stiles’ movements over the past few hours to either rule him out or bring him back in, again. 

Derek tries not to let his brain wander to the fact that he texted Stiles a few times throughout the day and never got a reply. Stiles had told him he was spending the day with Scott - and maybe, just maybe he was too preoccupied to answer. And not because he was too busy plotting a murder to text his government agent boyfriend back. 

He works until the early hours of the morning, him and Isaac going over the entire crime scene to make sure they haven’t missed any vital clues. They call it a night after they’re too tired to do anything else and decide to get a few hours of sleep before they’re back at it again. Looks like neither of them are going to get the Sunday off they both really wanted. 

Derek doesn’t get much sleep, to restless wondering what he’s going to say to Stiles in a few hours. How he’s going to broach the subject without giving it away that they found the next murder victim. When Derek finally gives up trying to sleep by 6am he decides to head into the office first to see if there’s any new information before he goes to see Stiles. 

“Victim’s name was Jimmy Mathers,” Tabitha says as they both stand over the deceased on the autopsy table. “Alpha werewolf of the East LA pack.”

“Way he died?” Derek asks.

“Same way as the other victim. No signs of a struggle. Wolfsbane in his system. Now that we know the chemical breakdown it’ll be easier for us to confirm if it’s the same or not. Results should be back in half an hour.”

“Thanks,” Derek nods his head as he leaves the autopsy room in search of Danny. He takes the elevator up to the IT department and it’s not that hard to find Danny hunched over a computer, typing away at a furious pace - he’s the only one of the floor. “What do you have?” 

“McCall’s student card was used at the library yesterday morning. Camera’s picked him up throughout the day on campus with multiple people.”

“Stiles?” Derek asks - because that’s where his interest lies.

“Not a trace,” Danny mutters looking up from the computer. His eyes are red with bags under his eyes like he hasn’t gotten any sleep all night and knowing Danny, that’s probably true. He even sometimes sleeps on the floor by his computer when he’s working a tough case.

“What do you mean not a trace?” Derek asks pulling up a wheelie chair to sit beside Danny. 

“I mean just that. The GPS on his phone says it’s been at the house all day but I can’t exactly confirm that he’s been with his phone at all times. There’s no security cameras near his house but I  spent hours watching the security feed on the route to the crime scene and I didn’t see Stiles or his jeep. There’s no cameras directly at the crime scene, whoever committed the murder obviously knew that.”

“Credit cards? Library card? Hell a fucking loyalty points card used?” Derek asks. 

Danny shoots him a look: _you don’t think I’ve tried that already_ look.

“What the fuck am I supposed to tell Chris?” Derek groans running his hands over his face. 

“Nothing yet. I’m still looking. I’ll text you the minute I know anything.”

Derek nods his head and pats Danny on the shoulder. “You need some rest first.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Danny mutters as he starts typing some algorithm into the computer. 

Derek contemplates going to Stiles’ apartment and stay on stakeout duty with Boyd but Boyd tells him not to bother. There’s no use in both of them staying awake all night just to keep an eye out on the house. Besides, Derek’s going to have to go to Stiles’ tomorrow and find what where the hell he was and what he was doing - all without raising suspicion that Derek thinks he’s yet again a suspect, or worse yet he was never _off_ the suspect list.

**

Derek didn’t get a proper night sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, trying to wait for morning until he can go to Stiles’. There was no use showing up at 6AM banging on Stiles’ door and demeaning to know where he was. That would only raise suspicious and logically, who the hell wakes up at 6AM on a Sunday if they don’t need to? 

By the time 7AM rolls around though, Derek decides to wake up and head to the gym upstairs. He works out for a little while, trying to workout until the point where his mind is completely blank and he doesn’t need to think about anything. Then he makes a smoothie back at his loft in the kitchen, because he can’t think about actually eating anything and being able to keep it down. 

He putters around the house before he thinks fuck is and gets in his car and heads to Stiles’. He parks his Camaro by the curb right outside of Stiles’ apartment. His eyes scan farther down the street and he sees the Agency’s undercover car parked inconspicuously. Derek nods his head in the direction of the drivers seat, knowing that Boyd is undoubtedly watching. He hears the engine of Boyd’s car start up and drive off. 

Derek still hears two heartbeats indoors as he knocks on the door, hearing shuffled foot steps making their way towards the front door. Scott opens the door looking bleary eyed. 

“‘Sup man?” Scott yawns moving to the side to let Derek in. “Stiles!”

Derek nods his head, watching closely as Scott shuffles back farther into the house. Scott doesn’t smell like blood, or death or anything else gory - he doesn’t sniff out any Wolfsbane like he did the first time in Stiles’ pocket. Of course, maybe this time around they’re more better prepared. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks emerging from the kitchen. He’s still dressed in his PJ’S, his hair a rumpled mess and he even has sleep lines on his face from his pillow. “Did we have plans today? I must have forgotten.”

“No,” Derek answers gruffly before he has to remind himself to act cool. “Just thought we could go get some breakfast? We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles smiles, he points his thumb behind him. “I’m just gonna go run and change quickly then.” 

They head to the local cafe that’s just around the corner from Stiles’ apartment and actually opens up early on a Sunday for the early risers who like to go out hiking. Stiles orders the full works, eggs, bacon, toast and a fruit salad. Derek orders a water and a slice of toast. When Stiles gives him a questioning look he just shrugs his shoulder saying he ate this morning. 

“Then what are we doing going out for breakfast?” Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Because I know how much you love your food,” Derek teases and Stiles doesn’t even try and protest. 

Stiles digs in to his breakfast as if he’s been starved the past few days and Derek wonders what the hell he did to work up such an appetite. Stiles doesn’t seem to be any the wiser to what Derek’s feeling or thinking, hell Stiles isn’t even acting any different than all the other times they’ve spent together since they started ‘dating.’

“So what did you end up doing yesterday?” Derek asks casually, picking at the crust of his toast. Derek _never_ picks at his food or fidgets, but still Stiles doesn’t seem to notice or even care. 

“Not much,” Stiles shrugs popping a piece of watermelon in his mouth. “Scott had to bail to work on a group project.”

Derek knows Stiles isn’t an idiot. Stiles can’t blatantly lie without Derek at least somewhat picking up on it - so he admits that he wasn’t with Scott, yet he doesn’t provide any more information, so Derek presses the issue.

“So you stayed at home all day? On a Saturday?”

“Nah, went out, had a few errands to run.”

“That’s it?”

“Am I missing something?” Stiles asks putting down his fork and giving Derek a quizzical look. 

“No,” Derek shakes his head looking away from Stiles.

“Are you sure? Because I feel like we’re having two completely different conversations here. Are you alright? You don’t look so well.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“You’re looking kinda pale man,” Stiles presses. 

“I just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep,” Derek barks and instantly regrets it. The few other patrons in the restaurant looked up startled and Stiles’ eyes widen before he frowns. 

“Oh is it work then?” Stiles asks so fucking innocently. “Big case? You should really take some time off.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Derek snorts, under his breath. 

Stiles looks just as confused before he sighs. “Listen dude, I get you might have a tough time at work or whatever but you don’t need to fucking take it out on me alright?” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek mutters because there’s not much else he can say. He can’t open up to Stiles about the ongoing murder investigation, the _two_ open murder investigations actually. Not unless Chris says that Stiles needs to brought in again for an interview and that’s the last thing Derek wants to do right now. 

After breakfast, Derek walks Stiles back to his apartment and makes up an excuse about being tired and maybe he should try and get some sleep. Stiles nod his head, still not sure what’s going on, but he says it’s all good and they’ll talk later.

The whole drive back to his apartment, Derek starts to wonder if maybe Stiles _is_ involved. Stiles didn’t lie to Derek about what he did yesterday, but he also wasn’t very forthcoming. He danced around the truth, only telling half truths - like not being with Scott - so that Derek wouldn’t get too suspicious. Only, it raised Derek’s suspicions ten-fold and now he’s really starting to wonder if he fell for a killer. Wouldn’t that be ironic, a cop in love with a murderer. He doesn’t take the exit off the highway for his apartment, instead heading back to the agency to see if anyone has any new leads. 

**

The debriefing room is in chaos. Any agent that’s available was called in to work around the clock trying to find a break in the case. Agents are yelling over each other, some in favour of brining Stiles and Scott in for questioning, others saying that’s stupid to tip them off, and the others that think maybe they’re not even involved. Derek doesn’t know where he lies in that spectrum.

“Shut up,” Chris bangs his hands down on the desk, getting everyone’s attention. “As I said before, brining McCall or Stilinski in is _not_ a good idea. If we tip them off they might go into hiding and we’ll never get the case to stick.”

“So we let them run around and _hope_ we catch them mid-act and hope for the best we don’t have another victim?” Erica asks straightening her back. “That’s ridiculous, and dangerous.”

“So we bring them in and lose any leads we have?” another agents asks glaring at Erica.

“What if they’re not even involved!” Someone else cries. “We’ve been so busy focusing on McCall and Stilinski that we haven’t even pursued any other suspects.”

“Actually we have been,” Boyd interjects. “Erica and I went to the Kali’s, spoke around to a few people there, even the bar owner herself. We got nothing.”

“So what now?” Isaac asks. 

“Derek,” Chris says and everyone’s eyes snap to Derek’s usual spot in the back of the room. “When you spoke to Stiles earlier did you get any information?”

“He admitted he wasn’t with Scott yesterday but other than that he didn’t say where or what he was doing.”

“Did you press it?” 

“Of course I fucking pressed it,” Derek shouts. “I do know how to do my job. He wouldn’t open up and if I pressed any more it would have been obvious.”

There’s an uproar in the room again as everyone starts yelling trying to be heard over one another. It’s worse then hearing nails on a chalk board and Derek just wants to get _out_ of here. He’d rather be down in the computer labs with Danny, looking for proof that Stiles _didn’t_ do it. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Chris bellows. “Over the next few days we’re still going to operate undercover. We’re not going to bring Stilinski or McCall in, we’ll watch their movements and if by the end of the week we don’t have any new leads we bring them in. We break them down until they start talking. Dismissed.”

Everyone gets up from their desks, either ready to head back towards their offices or towards their cars and head home. It is a sunday after all, and the last thing anyone really wants to be doing is working. Derek stays behind in his chair, thinking. He has a week to prove that Stiles is either guilty or innocent and he doesn’t know which he wants more.

If he proves that Stiles is guilty, than they’ve closed the case, a murderer is behind bars and the streets are safer. Which, is good. However, if he proves that Stiles is innocent, then there’s still a murderer out on the streets. Which, is bad. Also, if he can prove Stiles is innocent how is Derek supposed to move along with their ‘relationship’ or will he have to end it? He doesn’t know which is more frightening.

**From: Tabitha**

**Genetic breakdown of Wolfsbane in Mathers system a match to Wolfsbane found with Stilinski.**

Well, more and more signs are pointing that if Stiles at least isn’t guilty, he knows the person who is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama-rama.  
> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope there's no glaringly obvious mistakes, I did do a read through but I also want it posted before I go freak out about Sherlock tonight and get myself in a Sherlock induced coma.
> 
> Also, TEEN WOLF TOMORROW. Even though I get to watch it on Tuesday. :(

“The honeymoon phase is over? Really Stiles, that’s what you’re going with?” Scott says over his bowl of mac and cheese. It’s Tuesday evening and Stiles and Scott are both at home from a busy day of work and school, and just want to relax. Neither of them have dates anyway - which is what they’re talking about.

“Are you and Allison still in _your_ honeymoon phase?”

“I guess so,” Scott contemplates. “We’re still going strong. Why do you say you and Derek are over your honeymoon phase - and can we please stop saying honeymoon phase it’s weird and I feel like we’re old ladies.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and but answers anyway. “Because when I saw him Sunday he was all grumpy and acting cagey.”

“The full moon is coming up,” Scott supplies.

“We’ve been dating for more than one full moon and he hasn’t been cagey any of the other times. Plus it’s not just Sunday, he hasn’t texted me since and I’ve even texted him. We haven’t seen each other for more than like an hour over a few days and - I don’t know now I feel like an idiot saying it all out loud!”

“Dude,” Scott says putting his bowl down on the coffee table and getting up. He heads to the fridge and grabs a can of Dr Pepper and brings one back for Stiles. “Maybe he’s just been busy at work. I’ve been busy with school, you’re busy with your internship. It’s probably nothing.”

“Lets hope,” Stiles sighs resting his head against the back of the couch.

“You really like him huh?”

“You really like Allison huh?” Stiles counters.

**

By Wednesday morning, Derek knows he can’t avoid Stiles’ texts any longer. His phone had been going off at regular intervals throughout the day and they were all from Stiles. Ranging from a simple ‘hey’, to ‘you alright?’ to ‘what the hell man?’ If he didn’t answer back soon, he’s sure Stiles would hunt him down.

**To: Stiles**

**Dinner tonight?**

Almost a second later Stiles texts back.

**From: Stiles**

**Okay, dinner my house 8.**

Derek would have preferred to go to a restaurant, be around the hustle and bustle of people than be one-on-one with Stiles. Not because he was scared for his life or anything (Derek can totally handle himself) but because he’s scared he’d give away everything that’s going through his mind and that Stiles will be able to read him like a book.

“You’re seeing Stiles tonight?” Isaac shrieks.

“For dinner,” Derek nods.

“And you think that’s a good idea?”

“What am I supposed to do avoid him until we either make an arrest or clear him?”

“Well, yeah,” Isaac shrugs. 

They’re at their desks, going over and over the paperwork, all that they’ve accumulated for the case and have yet to either find another suspect or clear Stiles and Scott. On the other hand, the only thing linking Stiles and Scott to the murders is the Wolfsbane. And the fact that Stiles doesn’t had a solid alibi for the second murder. And the fact that he was at the scene of the first murder. Yeah maybe they have more against Stiles and Scott than they do in favour.

Isaac shuts the folders on his desk, running his hands through his curly hair. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Derek asks.

“Shh I’m thinking,” Isaac shuts his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “If we don’t think Stiles and Scott are the ones actually committing the murder but they know who is - who is it?”

After a few seconds Isaac starts flipping through the folders again, his finger pointing at a name.

“Deucalion, in New York. He’s an Alpha and he was sort of Scott’s Alpha however that worked. Whatever, they still knew him.”

“I had agents from the East Coast try and dig up anything on him as soon as Stiles and Scott were suspects. He’s never left New York,” Derek shakes his head.

“Okay, maybe he knows more people here,” Isaac tries. “Any known associates?”

“Stiles and Scott,” Derek sighs. 

“You’re not helping Derek!”

“Well they are known associates!” Derek complains. “There’s no other known associates here and why are you suddenly trying to get them off the hook?”

“Because,” Isaac gives Derek a level-stare over their desk. “You like Stiles. More than just it being pretend.”

“Isaac -”

“- and I refuse to believe that you like a murderer. So we need to prove he’s not.”

“And if he is?” Derek asks not even denying anything at this point. He stopped denying it to himself a long time ago but he hasn’t said it out loud, was too scared to.

“Then we really need to find you better taste in men and woman,” Isaac smiles.

Derek huffs trying to busy himself with other work. 

“Ask your mom about Deucalion. She knows about Alpha’s all over America doesn’t she?”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

Derek had considered asking his mom about Deucalion a long time ago. Maybe know if she knew any dirt on him, or at least dirt on anyone he knows. Something that might lead them to who is actually responsible for the deaths but the last thing he wanted to do was get his family involved. Only, it was too late for that, now that they met Stiles - Stiles was a part of Derek’s life that his family wasn’t supposed to see, to know. Stiles was a part of his work life who suddenly merged into his personal life.

He knows he has no choice but to give in. He picks up his desk phone and dials his mom’s number. She picks up on the second ring.

“Derek honey,” her voice sounds warm and inviting, pleased to hear from Derek. “Busy at work?”

“How’d you know?” His mother did always have a knack for that sort of thing.

“You called me from your work phone,” she laughs. 

Or she just had caller ID.

“Been busy,” Derek chuckles. “That’s why I’m calling you actually, about work.”

“You need my help?” she sounds surprised. “I don’t know what I could even help you with.”

“Do you know an Alpha named Deucalion?” 

“Oh wow,” Talia breaths through the phone. “I haven’t heard that name in years. What about him?”

“What do you know about him, anything you have would be helpful.”

“Not much. He’s a quite man, old-school Alpha, kept to himself and his pack. Why is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Derek lies - thankful that it’s easier to lie to his Alpha mother over the phone rather than in person. “Just routine background checks.”

“If something was wrong you’d tell me right?” Talia asks worried.

“Of course,” Derek lies again. He doesn’t think he’s ever lied to his family as much as he has these past few months. First about dating Stiles and now all this about Deucalion. 

“Ok sweetie. When are you going to visit again? You must bring Stiles, how is he?”

Derek tries to suppress his sigh over the phone, before his mother picks up on it. “I really should get going,” Derek says instead. “Really busy. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you mom.”

He hangs up before his mom can protest. She’ll forgive him hanging up on her eventually. 

“Nothing?” Isaac asks. 

“Nothing useful,” Derek grouses.

Derek had planned on keeping his head down for the rest of the day and working on the case in silence, or at the very least with his partner. But of course, Isaac had to wander off somewhere and Kate swoops in like a vulture. 

He’s in the break room, getting a cup of water from the water cooler when he sees her shoes standing beside him. He doesn’t hold back the sigh this time and stands up, he looms over her, even in her heels but she never cowers, never backs down. 

“Hi,” she smiles. She’s wearing tight black pants and a blue revealing shirt. Derek can see her shoulders and her ample cleavage. How this is considered work appropriate attire, Derek will never know. 

“I don’t have time for whatever it is you want Kate,” Derek growls making to walk a way. Kate blocks his way though, her hands coming to rest on Derek’s chest. He instantly moves backwards, trying to get away from her touch. 

“Trouble in paradise?” she smirks. 

“No.”

“Oh no,” she mock gasps. “Don’t tell me Agent Derek Hale has _real_ feelings for this kid.”

“I don’t,” Derek growls again. It only makes her throw her head back and laugh. Derek sees red, wants to rip her exposed throat out. 

“What’s the matter baby? Scared my brother will fire you for actually falling for a murderer. Don’t tell me you’ve been helping him hide the evidence. Now wouldn’t that just be _something_.”

Derek tosses the rest of his water down the sink and crushes the paper cup and dumps it in the garbage. He balls his hands up into fists and storms out of the room. He’s not going to give in to Kate, not going to get riled up because that’s _just_ what she would want. She’s vindictive and he wouldn’t put it past her to try and get him fired or taken off the case. Apparently no one dumps Kate unless she says so. Derek getting away from her was a blow to her ego.

Isaac doesn’t even ask Derek what’s wrong when he gets back to his desk. Derek just says he’s going to head home early and if Isaac has any new information, to call him immediately. 

**

“I almost forgot what you looked like,” Stiles smiles goofily later that night when he opens the door. Derek’s nose is assaulted with something that smells _delicious_ coming from the kitchen and either Stiles has cooked or ordered food and it got there early. 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Derek huffs stepping inside. He takes off his shoes and hangs his jacket up on the hook by the door. 

“But it has,” Stiles fake pouts leaning in towards Derek. He presses his lips against Derek and Derek instantly gives in to the kiss, pushing forward to close the distance between them. Then all too soon in Derek’s opinion, Stiles pulls away smiling. It’s as if any lingering suspicions Derek has about Stiles disappears when he sees him.

“What’d you order?” Derek asks following Stiles into the kitchen.

“Didn’t order anything.”

“But something smells good,” Derek argues, remembering the last time he mentioned something about Stiles cooking. 

“Ah, but I cooked,” Stiles beams taking a pan off of the stove. Stiles mixes whatever is in the pan one more time and fist pumps the air. He takes the pan towards the table and starts scooping it out into the two bowls there. “Technically it’s Scott’s recipe but I wrangled it out of him after all these years. He owed me.”

“What is it?” Derek asks sitting down at the table. 

“One pan chicken Alfredo. I hope I did it justice, Scott makes it the best! I followed the recipe right down to the T.”

Derek hums, picking up the fork and getting a piece of chicken and pasta on to his fork, taking a bite. He hums again, nodding his head - because it does taste good. Stiles takes a bite from his own bowl and makes the same appraising noise.

“Would it be totally conceited and snobbish if I said mine taste better because I slaved over it all day?”

“I can’t comment, I’ve never tried Scott’s,” Derek points out. He gets up from the table and grabs himself a beer from Stiles’ fridge as if he lives there as well. 

“Well you’ll have to try his one day too and you can be the judge,” Stiles looks at Derek, dead serious before he continues. “Just remember who provides the sex here.”

Derek snorts and Stiles just grins as they finish their meal. Thankfully, Stiles doesn’t comment about Derek being MIA this past week or bring up anything work related. It helps Derek forget that he’s supposed to be working, forgetting all about Stiles being a suspect. Though he can’t _completely_ forget, but it helps. 

After dinner and the dishes are done, Stiles says he’s down to watch some TV and when Derek makes towards the large flat screen TV in the family room, Stiles drags Derek towards his bedroom, says the TV is better in there. Despite Stiles’ TV being a hell of a lot smaller but Derek doesn’t complain. 

They settle in on the bed, on top of the duvet and Stiles puts a DVD on they’ve both seen before but they don’t mind. Half way through the movie, Stiles starts to get fidgety, his hands pawing, trailing all over Derek’s body. He runs his hand over Derek’s shirt, pulls it up a little so that he can run his fingers over the exposed skin just above Derek’s waistband. 

Derek starts to get interested when Stiles’ hands start to unbuckle Derek’s belt. He undoes the button and unzips Derek’s jeans. Derek raises his hips up enough so that Stiles can pull Derek’s jeans and boxers down part way, so that his dick is exposed. 

“Missed this,” Stiles murmurs running his lips along Derek’s hipbones. He takes Derek in his hand, and starts to pump it a few times. Stiles slides down the bed a little so that he can get his mouth around the head of Derek’s cock, starting to suck the head while his hand jerks off the rest. 

Derek closes his eyes but when he should be interested in what’s happening, should be interested in having Stiles’ mouth wrapped around his cock - like he _used_ to love, his mind wanders. His mind wanders to all the new information that they’ve leafed through at the agency. The Wolfsbane that’s a match between what was found in the dead bodies and on Stiles. The fact that Stiles was vague about where he was this past Saturday. Worst of all, his mind wanders to Kate. 

He thinks about what she said earlier in the day. About falling for a criminal and if he really was helping Stiles hide evidence. Derek of course _wasn’t_ hiding evidence, but was he falling for a criminal? What if Stiles really was involved. Derek’s brain goes into overdrive. 

It takes him a little while to realise that Stiles has pulled his mouth off of Derek’s dick. He’d been to preoccupied in his mind to even notice that Stiles was staring up at his expectantly. It takes him a few more seconds to realise that he’s not even hard, his dick flaccid in Stiles’ hand. 

“You with me?” Stiles asks.

Derek clears his throat, running his hands scratching through his beard. “Sorry.”

Stiles just gives him a look but starts to jerk him off again, mouthing at the head, running his mouth down to Derek’s balls. None of it does any good though, Derek stays utterly soft. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks concerned sitting up in the bed. He wipe his mouth of any lingering spit. 

“My mind is just somewhere else,” Derek admits, half-truths. “I can, you know,” Derek gestures towards Stiles’ crotch. 

“Don’t worry about it Derek,” Stiles says so sincerely settling in beside Derek. “We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“Sorry,” Derek sighs.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Stiles reassures Derek. 

Stiles rearranges himself so that his head is resting on Derek’s chest, and Derek’s arm is draped over Stiles’ shoulders. They finish watching the movie, that’s three-fourths of the way finished anyway. Stiles doesn’t make to touch Derek sexually again, instead just resting his hand on Derek’s chest - and Derek’s brought back to when Kate’s hand was there earlier and how much he hated it. 

When the movie is over Stiles gets up and takes the DVD out and is about to flip through the channels when Derek gets up and fixes his clothes. 

“You going already?” Stiles asks confused.

“I should probably, yeah, I have to get up early.”

“You can stay the night if you want,” Stiles suggests. “It’s not like you don’t have spare clothes here anyway.”

And that’s exactly the reason Derek has to go home. He shouldn’t have spare clothes here, he shouldn’t feel so at home with Stiles. If it was too much before, now it’s just unbearable. 

Derek just shakes his head and makes his way back out towards the front door. Stiles is standing by the door looking anxious as Derek puts his jacket and shoes on. He mutters goodnight and practically runs out the door and towards his car. He doesn’t even kiss Stiles good night. He doesn’t stick around to hear if Stiles yells at him to wait or anything.

**

The following day doesn’t go any better when Stiles suggests they meet up for lunch.

They meet at a park, get a hot dog from one of the vendors and start to walk around. They find a bench away from the other people roaming about and settle in. They dig into their hotdogs and cans of Coke. Then, Stiles has to open his mouth up and talk and Derek has to lose his temper.

“So is everything okay?” Stiles asks side-glancing Derek from where they’re sitting on the bench. “Like at work and between you and me?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know I just feel like you’ve been distant lately.”

“Me?” Derek snorts. 

“Yeah you,” Stiles frowns. “Why you think I’ve been distant lately? Pretty sure I’ve been the one manically texting you this past week.”

“Is this about last night?” Derek sighs. “It happens you know, we’re not all 22 and in our prime.”

“Whoa hey, this is so not about last night.”

“Then what?” Derek grunts.

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!” Stiles cries throwing his hands up in the air, a piece of relish flying off of his hotdog and landing on the pavement.

“Listen, it’s just been a tough week at work alright?” Derek snaps. “We don’t need to share our feelings.”

“What the fuck man,” Stiles shrieks. “What the hell has crawled up your ass? I was just asking a question, checking in if you were alright or not. You don’t need to take whatever problems you’re having out on me.”

“Oh now you feel like sharing,” Derek snorts. 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Stiles asks standing up, he tosses his hot dog into the garbage a few feet away. 

“Nothing,” Derek mutters not meaning to bring up Saturday and why Stiles wouldn’t tell Derek where he was. But Stiles doesn’t let it go, only making Derek angrier. 

“I’m just so confused right now,” Stiles sighs running his hand up the back of his neck. “I thought things were good?”

“Just drop it Stiles,” Derek barks. “Let a bad day just be a bad day and stop nagging me.”

“Nagging you - what am I an old biddy? Jesus.”

“I need to get back to work,” Derek stands up abruptly. He heads off in the direction they came from, Stiles hot on his trail. 

“Whatever,” Stiles calls out veering off in the opposite direction once they leave the park. 

Derek can faintly hear Stiles muttering under his breath but Derek just pushes forward. He needs to break this case and be done with everything. He really got himself in a fucking bind now.

“Why do you look constipated?” Erica asks a little while after lunch.

Sometimes, Derek is glad that Chris split them all up like they’re in high school, having Erica and Boyd on the other side of the office. If they all sat together, they’d probably never get any work done. As it is, Derek and Isaac get work done when they’re alone just as Boyd and Erica get their work done - when they’re not busy bickering and making up. 

“Is it Stiles?” Erica continues, pulling a chair up to Derek and Isaac’s desk. Boyd stands behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We really need to prove his innocence here.”

“Not you too,” Derek groans. “Did Isaac make you jump on the ‘prove Stiles is innocent’ train.”

“Please,” Erica sniffs. “I got him on the ‘prove Stiles is innocent’ train.”

“Just don’t let Chris hear you say that,” Boyd interjects.

“But do you guys actually think he’s innocent?” Derek asks, seriously. He keeps his voice low so that none of the other agents hear. Fortunately, not _all_ SMEA agents are werewolves with enhanced hearing. They are still nosy though.

“Well,” Erica holds up her thumb. “He had the Wolfsbane,” she holds up her pointer finger, clearly counting. “He conveniently moved from New York to here and murders started piling up,” she holds up her middle finger. “He doesn’t have an alibi for last Saturday,” she holds up her ring finger and tilts her head to the side. “Do I need to go on?”

“So you do think he’s guilty?” Derek grunts - then why the hell does she want to prove he’s innocent. She answers the question he hadn’t even spoken.

“Because he’s just _not_ guilty. There’s no way that kid we hung out with his capable of murder. He looks like the kind of person that would hit a dog and then arrange a funeral for it - look up the number of dog deaths by hit and runs and try and find some way to rectify the situation.”

“He’s also the kind of guy that seems loyal,” Boyd points out. “The type that would do anything to protect those he loves - including murder.”

“That’s not helping,” Isaac shouts pointing a finger at Boyd.

Boyd holds his hands up in defeat. “All I’m saying is maybe if he _is_ the ones committing the murder, or knows who is - that there’s some sort of driving force behind it. Maybe he’s being blackmailed.”

“Huh, never thought of that,” Erica says patting her hand on top of Boyd’s that still resting on her shoulder. 

“Blackmail,” Derek tilts his head, considering.

“But about what?” Isaac asks. “His dad’s a cop isn’t he? That’s the only family he really has beside Scott. There’s not much too blackmail him with.”

“Way to debunk our progress,” Erica snaps. 

“Now we’re back to square one,” Derek sighs.

“We’ll figure something out,” Erica says getting up. “If only for the reason so that you _don’t_ go back to Kate Argent.”

“I’d rather cut my balls off,” Derek snorts.

It’s true. He’d rather be neutered (metaphorically, of course) than ever sleep with Kate Argent again.

Derek’s glad he doesn’t have to admit to anyone out loud that he’s been checking his phone at regular intervals throughout the day, to see if Stiles texted. He wasn’t expecting much, but it would have been nice to see Stiles’ name pop up. Even if it was a ‘ _fuck you’_ text or ‘ _kiss my ass’_ text. Anything would be better than the radio silence he was currently getting - not that he blamed Stiles. 

When Derek gets home that night, he gives in and texts Stiles.

**To: Stiles**

**I’m sorry.**

Stiles doesn’t text him back and after half an hour of staring at his phone (yes he actually stared at his phone willing it to ring) he texts Stiles again. He can be just as persistent when he wants to be.

**To: Stiles**

**I was an ass.**

**From: Stiles**

**Tell me about it.**

Derek snorts but hey, at least it got Stiles to text him back - so he’ll take it. 

**To: Stiles**

**Dinner tomorrow night? I’ll even let you pick where we eat.**

**From: Stiles**

**It’s gonna take more than that to make it up to me! Asshat.**

**To: Stiles**

**It’s a start.**

**From: Stiles**

**Kisses are a start ;)**

Derek shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing - well he does. He _knows_ he’s getting himself in deeper and deeper and he just can’t let go of Stiles. When he had the rest of the day to think about Stiles storming off and muttering to himself, he just knew that the last thing he wants to actually do is hurt Stiles. Well, hurt him anymore than he already has.

**

Friday evening finds Derek waiting outside the restaurant for Stiles. Stiles is a few minutes late (which is no surprise there) but then Derek starts having these flashes of Stiles not showing up. That would be the first time in Derek’s life that he got stood up and he’s not too sure how well he’d like that - especially if it were Stiles standing him up.

Then, Derek catches the scent of Stiles, so embedded in his mind now that he could choose him out of a crowd. Stiles rounds the corner, his hands in his pocket and smiles faintly at Derek. 

Derek’s just to relieved that Stiles is here, he lets out a sigh of relief. When Stiles stops in front of Derek, about tot say hey, Derek cups his face and leans forward, pressing his lips to Stiles. Stiles lets out a startled noise but doesn’t protest, his hands resting on Derek’s stomach as he leans in to the kiss. Derek doesn’t even fucking care that they’re in public, on the sidewalk, and the fact that he hates PDA. 

“All is not forgiven my friend,” Stiles says resting his forehead against Derek’s.

“Sorry I was an ass,” Derek admits pressing another kiss to the side of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles pecks Derek’s lips one more time and squeezes his ass. He laughs when Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles.

“Okay, maybe it’s forgiven now. But dude, being a dickwad to me is not cool.”

“I know,” Derek sighs.

“As long as you _do_ know. I get that you have bad days, hello I had a bad high school experience. That was a bad _four years_ \- just let me know and I’ll back off.”

“Noted.”

Derek presses his hand to the small of Stiles’ back and leads him inside. They have reservations for 8PM but they arrived early so they head to the bar. It’s pretty busy considering it’s a Friday night and a nice night out in LA and the bar is just as busy. Derek shoves his way towards the bar and glares at enough people for them to scatter - two seats open up at the bar and Derek guides Stiles towards one while he takes the other. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you to flash your badge around to get a seat,” Stiles grins. “But your expressive evil eyebrows do the trick.”

“Surprisingly, you’re not the first to say that,” Derek snorts.

“Erica?” Stiles smiles knowingly.

“Erica, Isaac, Laura, Cora.”

“But not Boyd,” Stiles supplies.

“Boyd is a God send.”

“Boyd is a saint if he can put up with Erica,” Stiles laughs.

The bartender finally comes to them and takes their orders. Derek orders his beer and Stiles orders another funny concoction of juice and alcohol that’s an array of colours. _Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,_ Stiles would say. But when Derek did try it, it was far too sweet for his liking. Alcohol was supposed to get you drunk (even though Derek can’t get drunk off of human beer) not put you in a sugar coma.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to realise that Stiles really isn’t mad at him anymore. Stiles rests his hand on Derek’s upper thigh, just a firm pressure - and it sends a chill down Derek’s back. Stiles leans his body in towards Derek when they’re talking, much like the first night they met (for the second time) at the bar. 

Stiles’ eyes never wander to anyone else in the restaurant, staying totally focused on Derek. Much the same, Derek’s eyes never wander to anyone else - they could be alone in this place or there could be a bar fight going on and Derek would be none the wiser. 

Which is why Derek doesn’t hear the tell-tale sign of the heels on the ground or the over powering stench of her perfume. Kate sidles up to the bar, to the right of Derek, her arm resting on the bar. She places her hand on Derek’s shoulder and tilts her head to the side to peer over Derek’s shoulder to look at Stiles. 

“He looks different in person Derek.”

Stiles looks startled, looking up from his drink and looks at Kate. “I’m sorry, have we met?” Stiles asks. “I’m Stiles,” he extends his right hand to shake Kate’s.

All Derek can think is _no, no, no, this can’t be happening._

“Kate Argent,” Kate grins extending her hand. 

Derek’s about to excuse himself and drag Kate away, demanding to know why she’s here, why she’s interfering, but she beats him to the punch. 

“My my, look at those lips Derek I wonder what they’d look like -”

“ - Kate what do you want?” Derek asks gruffly, suddenly finding his voice. His heart is hammering a thousand beats per second and Stiles still looks just as confused as ever. 

“And those eyes,” Kate purrs. “They just look so innocent don’t they? Well surprise surprise Derek dear, they _are_ innocent.”

“Have I missed something?” Stiles asks clutching at his drink on the bar. Not that any amount of alcohol could prepare Stiles for meeting Kate Argent. 

“Kate we need to talk over there,” Derek says trying to stand up from his barstool, to lead Kate outside. She takes the hand still on Derek’s shoulder and pushes him back down so he remains sitting at the bar. He could, technically, easily pull away and get out from under Kate’s grip but he suspects that would be a worse idea. 

“We caught the murderer Derek,” Kate explains. “Redhanded too. His name was Ennis. We even found documents at his apartment, all signs that he was working alone and the one in possession of the Wolfsbane. No other known associates but techs are working through the rest of the files. Looks like our little Stiles Stilinski was innocent after all.” 

“Innocent?” Stiles squeaks looking from Derek to Kate. “Me? What’s going on?”

“Stiles-”

“C’mon now sweetie, I thought you were smarter than this,” Kate sighs growing bored of the conversation. “You were brought in and questioned and then released and it was never brought up again. Then Derek just magically shows up the bar you were at alone and there was no coincidence in that? We work for a government agency love, it’s not that hard to figure out where you were. Derek, you’re needed back at the office now,” Kate pats Derek on the shoulder and then leaves the bar in a flourish, pleased with herself for outing the news so out and in public. 

“What the hell is going on?” Stiles says getting up from the bar. He makes towards the front of the restaurant and out the door. Derek chases after him, ignoring when the hostess calls out that their table is ready. Stiles turns on his heels once they’re outside poking Derek in the chest.

“What were you, the fucking Trojan Horse sent in to _spy_ on me? You really think I murdered those people didn’t you? What was I, public enemy number one at the fucking agency.”

“Stiles it wasn’t like that,” Derek says moving closer towards Stiles. Stiles steps backward putting his hands up to stop Derek from touching him, or moving any closer to him. His face looks disgusted with Derek and that fucking _hurts_. Derek never wants to see that look on Stiles’ face and he certainly never wanted to be the one to put it here. 

“Then what was it like Derek? You took me to meet your fucking family. Were they in on it? Was it all one giant joke - you all laughing at me behind my back. That’s fucking sick.”

“It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated,” Derek huffs rubbing his hand over his forehead. He has a million things he wants to say, figure out how to explain it all but every time he tries to get the words out, they get all scrambled. 

“The dates, the sex…” Stiles trails off. “All one giant lie and for you, all a big payday.”

Stiles starts to walk off back towards his car and when Derek tries to chase after him Stiles just shrugs him off. “Stay the fuck away from me, I mean it,” Stiles snarls. “I may not be the murderer you were looking for but I still sure as hell know how to use a gun.”

Derek watches Stiles’ retreating form, getting smaller and smaller the more Stiles walks away from him. He wants nothing more to chase Stiles down, to make him listen to what he has to say but there’s no real way to explain it that’ll make Stiles happy. At the end of the day, Derek _was_ paid to go undercover to date Stiles and despite the fact that Derek actually developed real feelings for Stiles, it doesn’t change how their relationship started out. 

Derek knows he can’t run after Stiles and he can’t run home and hide like a coward. He has to go back to the agency, deal with all the paperwork before Chris starts banging down on his front door - or worse yet, Kate. His drive back to the agency is a blur, he barely remembers getting into the car, starting the engine or driving - it’s just all on autopilot. 

Back at the agency, the building is in a frenzy. Agents are running around with boxes of paperwork, there’s lots of shouting and yelling. There are whiteboards and blackboards with Ennis’ name on it, with a web of arrows all around leading to the victims and any connections. Derek can’t make any sense of it, so he heads to his desk - where Isaac, Erica and Boys are all anxiously waiting. 

“You heard?” Isaac asks standing up. “We tried calling you, multiple times.”

“Oh I heard,” Derek mutters folding himself into his chair. “Kate showed up at the bar where I was with Stiles. Spilled the beans on everything.”

“What?” Erica screeches. “Right in front of Stiles?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “I didn’t even get a chance to explain to Stiles. He bolted the fuck out of there. He’s probably never going to speak to me again.”

“Give him time to cool off,” Boyd suggests.

“Lets focus on closing this case first and then we’ll deal with Stiles,” Erica nods. 

Derek doesn’t really think there’s much more they can do in regards to Stiles. But he doesn’t voice that opinion out loud, it’s no use wallowing in his own self-pity and self-hate when there’s work to be done. 

“What do we have so far?” Derek asks straightening up in his chair and pulling out all the folders he has on his case.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd all take their turns explaining everything they learned so far. 

There was intel of a small fight going on out in one of the trails in the forest and it was supernatural. The agency was called and some agents went out there to see what was going on. That’s when they found Ennis in a brawl with a prominent werewolf - more wealthy than anything and not an Alpha. It looked as it the prominent Alpha, whose name was Alexandra was losing the fight. She was struggling with Ennis, bruises, cuts and scraps all over her body, her clothes torn. 

The agents took out Ennis before he could follow through with the kill, shooting him with a Wolfsbane bullet, multiple bullets and he was dead within seconds. They found his wallet in his jeans pocket a few feet away from where his dead body was laying, and that’s how they knew who he was and where his apartment was.

CSI agents were sent immediately to his house, a little shit hole on the outskirts of LA. There were boxes and files all around his apartment with definitive proof that he was the one who carried out the other murders. He even had kilo’s of the special brew of Wolfsbane. None of the papers hinted at him working with anyone else, he was apparently a lone wolf. 

“But he was an Alpha already wasn’t he?” Derek asks feeling like, if it were possible, he’d have the beginnings of a headache. “Why would he go around killing Alpha’s and wealthy werewolves?”

“Power,” Boyd shrugs. “Killing other werewolves, especially Alpha’s would feel like taking a hit of something. He’d get the rush of power.”

“And the money,” Derek nods his head. “Of the dead Alpha’s, we never found traces of their pack. Maybe Ennis threatened them, or wiped them out completely and hid their bodies. But not before he could get the money from the wealthy werewolves.”

“It seems like a lot of work though,” Isaac muses leaning back in his chair. “For him to do it all on his own, he must have had help.”

“Techs are going through everything right now,” Erica supplies. 

“What about the Wolfsbane? How did Stiles have the same blend,” Derek asks. He doesn’t let himself think that Stiles was involved, not anymore. 

“Working on that. We think probably an underground witch in New York though, maybe not well known or under our radar,” Isaac answers. 

“C’mon lets get to the debriefing room. I’m sure Chris will call a meeting any second now,” Boyd says. 

Chris does call a meeting. He explains much the same that Erica, Isaac and Boyd told Derek. Kate is notably absent and that, is at least a relief because Derek doesn’t know what he’d have done if he saw Kate there. It would probably involve his partner having to hold him back before he clawed out Kate’s eyes and ripped her tongue out. 

Chris tells all the agents to grab a box that was found in Ennis’ apartment and to work through it, take notes of anything that seems important and be on the look out for any potential people he was working with.  

They end up spending most of the night and the early hours of the morning going over paperwork until all the words look jumbled together, one giant blur. Erica eventually says they should call it a night and reconvene in a few hours, they’ll be no use if they’re too tired.

Derek _does_ go home but he doesn’t get any sleep. He stares up at the ceiling, wondering what Stiles is doing, if he’s okay, if he’ll talk to Derek again and let Derek explain. He tries to form the words in his mind of what he’ll say to Stiles, so that he can get it all out without messing it up. How he can convey this his feelings were genuine for Stiles and not just all a hoax. 

**

Derek doesn’t need to be back in the office on Saturday until the late afternoon. Everyone was allowed to take the morning off to sleep and get some rest before the had another all nighter closing the case. By 11AM Derek figures now is as good a time as any to call Stiles in hopes that he’ll answer.

The first time Derek calls, there’s no answer. Same with the second. The third time he calls Stiles, it goes straight to voicemail. Either Stiles turned off his phone or is now just completely ignoring Derek’s calls. So, he texts Stiles.

**To: Stiles**

**I’m sorry. Just let me explain everything first.**

Derek doesn’t expect to get a reply back and he doesn’t. What he does get, is a call from probably one of the last people he wants to talk to right now, Cora. By now, the death of Ennis and everything that it entailed is big news with the Supernatural community and with a community that small and tight-knit, it travels fast. Apparently, someone at the agency has also a big mouth and it’s no secret now that Derek was dating Stiles under false pretenses. He doesn’t actually give a fuck who knows, so long as it’s not his sister and family - apparently it’s wishful thinking though.

He doesn’t pick up the phone despite the fact that Cora calls multiple times in a row. She does leave an angry fuelled message though. He has to hold the phone away from his ear, the way Cora is yelling through the phone. She proceeds to tell Derek that he’s a fucking idiot, how could he do that, who even does that and it goes on like that until the answer machine cuts her off. She leaves about four messages until she’s finished her rant. 

Derek knows he’s going to have to face Cora and the rest of his family, eventually. But, the longer he can avoid it, the better. He doesn’t need to hear or see the disappointment in their voices and eyes - he already knows he’s a giant fuck up. They don’t need to remind him every second. 

His last resort is to go to Stiles’ apartment. He knows it’s probably the _stupidest_ idea he’s come up with - well short of agreeing to this whole stupid thing in the first place. The whole drive over he reassures himself this is the right thing, that he needs to do this. Of course, he doesn’t expect Scott.

The minute that Scott opens the door and sees Derek, he punches Derek right in the jaw. Derek’s a big guy, bigger than Scott - but it came as a surprise and he can’t even defend himself, doesn’t have time to duck out of the way or lift him arm up to block the punch. Scott gets him square in the jaw, hearing bones crack. Derek probably does deserve that though.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing up here,” Scott hisses. 

“Can I talk to him?” Derek asks. He knows Stiles is home, can hear the second heartbeat further inside the house. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Scott freaks out. “There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near him. You’re a sick freak and I swear to God if you show up here again I will stuff you full of that Wolfsbane myself. I don’t give a shit you’re some government agent.”

Derek opens up his mouth to speak again, but Scott brings his hand up in a fist like he’s ready to strike Derek again. His jaw is already healed, set back into place, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for another beating. He shuts his mouth, shoving his hands in his pocket and leaves. He walks back down the stairs and towards his car - he hears the door shut with a loud bang and Scott muttering he’s a fucking asshole under his breath. 

He sits outside in the car for a few more minutes, listening to the heartbeats but not able to make out Stiles and Scott’s conversation. He knows it’s no use, Stiles isn't going to come outside anyway. When Derek sees Scott’s face peer out the front window, the curtains rustling, Derek starts the car and leaves. He doesn’t put it past Scott to chase after him on foot to get him to leave. 

He knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, spaghetti-o.  
> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I AM BLEARING THE EMERGENCY HORNS HERE* CHARACTER DEATHS, I REPEAT CHARACTER DEATHS (no not Stiles or Derek, I'm not that evil).   
> PROCEED WITH CAUTION... or read the end notes if you really must know.

“Would you just answer your phone already,” Stiles groans rolling on his back to look at Scott. Stiles has been locked in his room all day, laying on his stomach, his face smushed into his pillow. He explained everything to Scott and then went mute. Scott tried talking to him, bringing him some food or water to eat but Stiles was having none of it. Scott even stayed in the room overnight with Stiles. 

“No,” Scott says petulantly. Scott’s phone has been ringing off and on again all night, Allison. 

“You don’t need to avoid Allison,” Stiles sighs. “For what it’s worth I don't think she was involved or even knew about _him._ She doesn’t even work at the agency.”

“But her dad is the head of the agency!” Scott protests. “What if she did know and didn’t say anything. I thought she really liked me. Besides I want to be here for my best bud.”

Stiles sits up, finally, leaning against his headboard. Scott’s propped up at the foot of the bed so they’re top and tailing. “I really don’t think she was involved,” Stiles confesses. “We hung out last weekend.”

“You did?” Scott perks up. “Without me?”

“Yeah we uh… She needed help with something,” Stiles admits. He still believes Allison wasn’t involved and so he doesn’t want to give up the secret Allison shared with him, even to Scott. “You weren’t around and either was Lydia so I helped her. We spent the day together and it was good. I don't think she would have come to me with her problems if she knew about _him_ doing what he did to me.”

“Oh,” Scott smiles sheepishly. Feeling bad that he’s relieved Allison wasn’t involved because his best friend is still hurting. “Well I’ll talk to her later then. She’ll understand.”

Scott sends a quick text message to Allison, probably explaining and then he shuts his phone off so he can spend time with Stiles. 

Scott finally manages to convince Stiles to eat something. He brings Stiles a bowl of Lucky Charms and a mug of steaming hot coffee. Then Scott puts the TV on in Stiles’ bedroom and they find some rerun of a show they’ve seen a thousand times - but it’s better than sitting in silence. They both turned their phones off so they wouldn’t be interrupted. The last thing Stile needs is to see Derek calling him every few minutes.

Stiles must have dozed off sometime during him and Scott watching reruns on TV because he wakes with a jolt when he hears someone knocking on the door. Scott instantly gets up and off the bed and heads out of Stiles’ bedroom.

“I’ll see who it is first, just in case it’s Derek.”

After a few seconds when Stiles doesn’t hear anymore yelling unlike last time when Derek was at the door, Stiles ventures out of his dark room. He probably looks like a slob, he’s in an old pair of ratty sleep pants and his old Columbia University sweater that he loves so much. 

When he gets to the family room he sees two strange men carrying something indoors and Scott looking completely perplexed.

“Apparently we ordered something?” Scott says with a question at the end. “Have you been late night infomercial shopping again?”

“No,” Stiles says just as puzzled moving closer to the large crate the two strange men are carrying in to their apartment. They could be murderers disguised as delivery men for all Stiles knows. Then, he sees the shipping address on the crate, Beacon Hills, and he knows in that instant what it is. 

“Sign here,” one of the mens ays gruffly handing Stiles a little handheld device and a stylus to sign with.

“Take it back. I don’t want it,” Stiles says not making to grab the handheld device, refusing to sign.

“No can do kid. Shipping and delivery has been made. You want to return it, you gotta take it up with the company.”

“What is it?” Scott asks moving closer to the crate.

Stiles pulls a face, snatching the handheld device out of the guys hand and scrawling a signature before he shoves it back at the man. He slams the door shut once they’re outside. Scott’s still looking all around the box trying to figure out what it is.

“Why does it say Hale on it? As in Derek Hale?” Scott asks.

“As in his family business back in Beacon Hills,” Stiles clarifies. “Remember I told you they run that up-cycling business? Well I chose something out when I visited there, it must have taken a while for it to be delivered.”

 “What, ew. Return it!” Scott freaks. “Tell them you want your money back.”

Stiles snorts plopping down onto the couch staring at the stupid crate in his living room. He forgot that he’d ordered the coffee table, forgot that Derek’s parents were going to be shipping it out for him. It would look perfect in lieu of their boring Ikea coffee table they have now - but he doesn’t want to see it. 

“I didn’t even pay for it,” Stiles points out. “It’ll probably cost a fuck load to ship back too.”

“Then forget about it,” Scott declare sitting beside Stiles. “Wanna go out and grab something to eat? Get some fresh air or something?”

“I guess I’ll have to venture out there eventually,” Stiles sighs. Not that he bothers to change out of his sweat pants and sweater. He doesn’t care if he looks like a slob or smells bad. People can just deal with it and shut the fuck up.

**

Derek gets through the rest of the weekend relative unscathed. He doesn’t hear from his family and Cora doesn’t try calling him again. The case is more or less closed - just routine check ups to make sure everything is on the up and up. Isaac, Boyd and Erica try and cheer him up over the weekend, suggesting they go out to get a drink or just something to eat. Derek always waves them off saying he’s just going to go home and get some rest. 

They know he’s just going home to wallow.

He doesn’t try and call or text Stiles again and he sure as hell isn’t going to show up at his apartment and face the wrath of Scott. It would almost be as scary as having to face his mother. Speaking of his mother.

By Tuesday, Derek is getting a call from his mom on FaceTime and he knows that if he ignores the call she’ll keep calling him, all the while she gets in her car and drives there - _still_ calling. So he reluctantly picks up his phone, adjusting it so that his face is in the frame.

“Hi Mom -” 

“Derek Hale what the hell is wrong with you?” Talia yells into the phone, her eyes bleeding red. Which means she’s not only his mom pissed off, but also his Alpha and pissed off.

“Cora spoke to you?” Derek sighs. He flicks on a light so that his mom can actually see him and sits down in one of his chairs. He knows this is the kind of conversation you need to have sitting down. 

“Of course she did. Unlike you, she still keeps in contact with me while she’s out in LA.”

“Can we really not get into my lack of contact _now_?” Derek whines - actually whines like he’s still a child. 

“Well then,” Talia tsks. “How about the fact that you hurt that poor young man?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Derek protests. 

“What possessed you to think that dating that young man under false pretenses was a good idea?”

“It was for work,” Derek mumbled. Speaking clearly only when his mother gives him her best mother glare. “I had to close the case there were _murders_ mom. If Stiles was a suspect we had to make sure he wasn’t going to do it again. I had a chance for a promotion as well.”

“Derek,” Talia sighs. “I raised you better then that didn’t I? A promotion?” 

Derek’s about to answer - though he doesn’t know what he’s actually going to say when the camera jostles and he sees his dad enter the frame. Great. 

“Derek? Is that you?” Jack says into the phone. He was never great with technology. “The fuck did you do to Stiles? We liked Stiles.”

“Jack,” Talia scolds. Either because he swore or because he wasn’t helping the situation. Probably both. 

“Dad,” Derek huffs. 

“Well I guess he won’t be coming to Laura’s wedding?” Jack sighs.

“ _Jack_ ,” Talia says again exasperated.  

“Fine fine,” Jack mutters. “You have your mother son conversation.”

When Jack finally leaves, Talia gets back on topic. She tells Derek she’s disappointed in him but first and foremost that she’s there for Derek. He may have been an idiot, may have made the wrong decision but Talia will always be there for Derek. She even offers to come down there and visit him, or if Derek wants he can come home for a little while. 

Derek says that it’s okay, he should stay here and deal with everything. Besides, he has his makeshift pack, Boyd, Erica and Isaac and even Cora - if she ever speaks to him again. 

“You all seem to love Stiles,” Derek huffs. “More so than you love me.”

Talia laughs, a fully belly laugh her eyes sparkling. “Oh honey. We just loved what Stiles did for you. You seemed so happy when you were home for the weekend. I don’t think you even threatened Peter once - that’s groundbreaking.”

“Yeah well now you’ll have to deal with me and Peter at each other’s throats this Thanksgiving.”

“We’ll take you any way we can get you honey.”

Derek says goodbye to his mom, promising that he’ll call no matter what time it is if he needs to talk. Talia says she’ll talk to Cora, tells her not to go too hard on him, though he knows that’s a lost cause. Once Cora decides she likes someone, she likes them - and now because she liked Stiles, and Derek hurt him, she’s not pleased. 

**

Derek can only avoid Kate for so long, they do work together. He was trying to be the bigger person, avoid her and avoid any confrontations. Naturally, Kate wanted the exact opposite. She cornered him in one of the corridors as Derek was heading back to his desk.

“Want to get out of here later?” she purrs sidling up next to Derek, falling in step with him. Her arm brushes against Derek’s arm and despite there being a layer of clothing between then, he bristles with disgust.

“Fuck off Kate,” Derek doesn’t even stop, keeps walking and hopes she’ll back off.

“Oh c’mon,” she pouts. “It’s not like you’re still fucking Stilinski. I can take the edge off.”

Derek stops, pushing Kate up against the wall, his forearm across Kate’s collarbone. He growls loud and when most people would be scared, Kate just smirks her eyes lighting up like she enjoys pissing Derek off, making his animal side come out. 

She lets one of her hands drift to Derek’s crotch, squeezing at Derek’s dick through his jeans. 

It makes Derek growl louder, pushing more of his body weight against Kate’s neck. Kate starts to laugh, enjoying it all - before Derek pushes _that_ much harder and Kate starts to wheeze, trying to get air to her lungs. 

They must have been loud or just pure, sheer luck (on Kate’s part) because Chris rounds the corner and when he sees the two of them he starts shouting. He makes a grab for Derek’s shoulder, hauling him off of Kate and pushes him up against the opposite wall. Chris yells at Derek to calm down, to control himself. Kate rubs at her neck but doesn’t protest.

“Your sister is fucking psycho,” Derek yells shaking Chris off of him. “Keep her the hell away from me.”

“Oh don’t be such a pussy,” Kate sing-songs. Derek growls again but Chris get in-between Derek and Kate.

“Kate, talk a walk,” Chris orders. Kate goes to protest but Chris’ look brooks no argument. “Derek, cool off.”

“Keep her away from me Chris, I swear to God. Unless you want problems.”

“I don’t know if you think I’m stupid, like I didn’t know what was going on between you and Kate,” Chris says. 

“That was then, this is now.”

“You were never supposed to fall for Stilinski,” Chris points out.

“I _never_ should have been asked to do this. Kate suggested it and you just went along with it Chris. Is that fucking protocol? Were you that obsessed with catching the killer that you wanted me to date the suspect. Let your daughter continue to date Scott even though _he_ might have been on it.”

“It’s over now,” Chris clears his throat. “Case closed, move on.”

Chris walks away leaving Derek alone in the hallway. He wants nothing more than to punch someone, something. He closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths like his mother taught him when he was a teenager, getting himself under control. When he starts to feel the tension drain his body, he heads back to his desk.

It’s no secret that everyone on their floor heard the fight by now.

Isaac just gives him one look and suggest they head down to the gym to burn some steam. Derek’s fucking thankful that Isaac knows him so well - knows that Derek doesn’t want to _talk_ about it but he sure as hell wants to punch someone and Isaac being a sparring partner is perfect. 

**

Scott, Stiles and Allison are all sitting in Scott and Stiles’ apartment in the living room. The crate from the Hale’s is still sitting there, unopened and collecting dust. Scott made no move to ever open it and Stiles never made to move it or get rid of it. So instead, they just piled any junk mail they got on there and generally ignored it, walking around it. Scott even bumped his toe against it a few times late at night, despite his werewolf eyes.

“C’mon this totally sounds like a good idea,” Scott says trying to excite Stiles. “Both of our parents are working over Thanksgiving so why not go to Las Vegas?” 

“Because,” Stiles protests, throwing his free hand up in the air, pizza in the other one. “I don’t want to be the third or fifth wheel on yours and Allison’s and Jackson and Lydia’s double date getaway.”

“You won’t be,” Allison assures Stiles dipping her pizza in the garlic sauce. “Jackson and Lydia have their own plans. We can do our own thing, go to the casino, go see a show, get you a rebound,” Allison raises her eyebrows at Stiles, smiling - showing her dimples that Stiles can’t ignore. “I can be your wingman.”

“Hey! What about me?” Scott yelps. “I should be the wingman.”

“Oh baby,” Allison giggles. “You wouldn’t even know what to do if a guy hit on you.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh, because yeah Scott probably wouldn’t even know a dude was hitting on him - just thinking the guy was being polite. Then Scott would proceed to talk to the guy, and the poor guy would think he was going to get lucky. Stiles knows this because that’s exactly what happened the last time Stiles took Scott to a gay bar in New York. 

“Fine. I guess we’re going to Vegas,” Stiles sighs like it’s such a fucking effort to take the long weekend off and head to another State for a get away. Yeah, totally a hardship. 

**

Derek knew he wasn’t going to get out of not going back to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving. If he were being honest with himself anyway, he didn’t want to stay in LA by himself anyway. Erica and Boyd were probably having their own couple-y weekend together and Isaac was surprisingly spending it with his booty call - which was turning more into a real relationship. 

With going home for Thanksgiving came all those _looks_ and remarks from his family. Particularly Peter, which he should have expected. 

“He sure seemed like a keeper,” Peter muses. “The kind that would put up with your shit.”

“Like Grace puts up with yours?” Derek snarls back because he has no idea how Grace ever agreed to marry Peter, let alone have his kids. 

Brian had patted Derek on the back, consoling, but didn’t say anything else. 

Laura had sighed, rubbing her hand over her growing belly. “Baby brother. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Throw him outside,” Cora mutters.

“You didn’t even hangout with Stiles all that often,” Derek snaps. 

“Maybe I would have if you weren’t such an ass munch,” Cora sneers.

“Cora, Derek,” Talia warns, giving them both a glare. They instantly clamp their mouths shut and Cora turns her nose up while Derek crosses his arms. 

Jack pats Derek on the shoulder, more consoling than he was last time on the FaceTime chat, which means that Talia must have spoken to him. 

This time around, Derek asks for his old room back and tells his mom to let one of the kids to sleep in the guest room. The last thing he wants to do is sleep in the same bed that he had sex with Stiles in - it would only bring all those memories, all those _good_ memories rushing back. That’s the last thing he needs right now.

He hasn’t spoken to Stiles in weeks, no texts, no phone calls, nothing. Erica had offered to knock some sense into Stiles, so that Derek could explain himself. The last thing he needed was Erica talking to Stiles though - it would probably make things worse. 

So, Derek had to go on with his life. Not that it was much of a life, he woke up, went to work, came home and did it all again the next day. On the days that he didn’t work or on the weekends, he’d work out, sometimes go to Isaac’s house for takeout and after a few days they stopped bringing Stiles up so as not to upset Derek.

Derek never thought he’d have such _strong_ feelings for Stiles either. Sure he was good looking, scrawny yet built underneath all the bulky clothing. Innocent eyes, Kate was right about that, and he was funny as hell, loyal as well. He made Derek laugh, even at the stupidest jokes that if anyone else told them, Derek would roll his eyes. Stiles had carved out a space in Derek’s life, and now there was a gaping hole. 

He wasn’t so pathetic to sit outside Stiles’ house to see what he was up to, if he was moving on or anything like that. He had _some_ dignity left. Danny had even offered to trace Stiles’ phone or see where he was - Derek just had to give him the word. Derek declined, again he wasn’t that pathetic. As much as he wanted to know what Stiles was doing. 

**

Stiles wasn’t on driving duty on their Thanksgiving road trip to Las Vegas. Which was fair enough, considering all of high school from the day Stiles got his drivers licence he was shuffling Scott back and forth between home and school, his job or wherever else they were going. Scott and Allison took turns driving instead. Which was fine with Stiles because that meant he got to sprawl out in the back of Allison’s car since Scott wanted to sit in front with Allison. Considering Scott finally moved past thinking that Allison was part of the evil plan Derek was in on. Once Scott realised that Allison was in fact, not involved - well all was forgiven. 

So, Stiles sat in the back with his iPod in, listening to _his_ choice in music and not Lady GaGa’s new album Scott and Allison both apparently loved (so maybe there some _some_ music choices Allison and Stiles didn’t agree on). He listened to the music he wanted and tried not think of Derek - because the more he thought about the fuck face, the more he wanted to punch said fuck face. 

“Even though I’m not in school anymore, I’m still balls deep in student loans,” Stiles hesitates when Allison pulls up to the front of a fancy hotel. The kind of hotel that has valet service rushing towards your car to park it for you and fetch your bags out of the trunk. 

Scott nods his head in agreement because Scott still _does_ have school and amounting even more student debt. 

Allison smiles, not her genuine, pretty good smile, but her don’t worry about it smile. She hands a $20 note to the valet guy and another $20 note to the attendant fetching their bags out of the trunk. The man takes their bags in to the front lobby and up to the check-in desk. 

Stiles hesitates again because the inside is even fancier than the outside. The floor is marbled and the walls look like they’re fucking made out of _gold -_ and not the cheap, tacky looking gold. Allison hands over her credit card as she asks for two rooms. 

“My dad’s card,” Allison smirks turning towards Scott and Stiles. She brings her hand up to cover her smile as Scott and Stiles look at her with gaping mouths. Pretty sure a fly just flew on in there. “It’s the least he could do for being an asshole.”

“You’re evil,” Scott cracks up throwing her arm around Allison. Stiles shakes his head and Scott just laughs even harder throwing his other arm around Stiles. “But this is going to be _amazing_.”

Well, who is Stiles to say to no Allison? He’s no one, because Stiles couldn’t even say no to Allison if he wanted. She could easily kick his ass - besides Stiles doesn’t want to sleep in some cheap, sleazy motel while Allison and Scott shack up in a $500 a night hotel room with Egyptian cotton sheets and chocolate kisses on the pillow. 

Understandably, Scott and Allison get one room while Stiles gets the adjoining bedroom. The kind that has a door leading through to the other room. Thank God Stiles isn’t a werewolf and not able to hear all the loud, mind-blowing sex Allison and Scott are probably going to be having later that night while Stiles is face down on his bed wallowing in his own self-pity and fucking in to his own hand. 

If Allison were a man, Stiles would marry her in an instant. The first thing they decide to do after they’ve settled in to their room and showered is go out and explore. Allison finds a shooting range and declares that they should go there. She pulls out her dads credit card once again, shoving Stiles’ and Scott’s hands away as they tried to pay - she orders the the Black Ops package. Yeah, if only she were a man. Too bad she didn’t have a twin that was gay and a boy. 

They get to fire four different types of guns, MP5, UZI, SAW and a hand gun. They get to shoot at targets and everything. Scott looks like he’s about to shit his pants when their guide, Terrence, shows them out to set up and load the gun, how to aim and fire. Scott says maybe he should watch the guide do it first, setting an example.

Stiles and Allison burst out into laughter, until the guide shoots them a glare, and the guide gives them their lessons. When it’s Stiles and Allison’s turn, they both fire at their targets and get it pretty damn close. Well, Allison gets the bullet straight on the bullseye and Stiles gets it only a few millimetres apart. Scott doesn’t even hit the target. But Allison pats his back and tells him it’s okay, he’s got a lot of other rounds to try. 

If only this were a date, Stiles would be in heaven. This is the kind of thing he always wanted to do with Derek (but he doesn’t let himself think of that too much) because he’s actually having such a good time. While Allison stands a safe distance behind Scott as he fires, Stiles is aiming his gun at his target as the guide watches on.

“I take it this isn’t your first time,” Terrence says after Stiles empties his round of bullets into the target. 

“No,” Stiles chuckles. “I work in ballistics, only been a few months. Though my father is the Sheriff, not that he let me shoot any guns until I was 18.”

“Well you’re doing pretty well here,” Terrence laughs watching as Stiles loads his next gun. They put their headphones and protective glasses back on. 

A little while later they’re sitting at the ‘Range Grill’ ordering their food and drinks. 

“That was oddly therapeutic,” Stiles confesses. “Is that messed up or make me deranged?”

“Only if you were picturing the target as Derek’s face. I wouldn’t hold it against you though,” Allison giggles. 

“No I wasn’t, surprisingly enough,” Stiles snorts. “It was just nice to get lost in my own little world for an hour. Fire a gun and feel the kickback.”

Despite the fact that Stiles is around guns majority of the time at work, he still hasn’t gotten sick of them. He’s not some sort of gun freak or anything, he doesn’t have a thousand guns locked away in his apartment - but as long as there are guns on the streets, he’s going to have a job in ballistics. 

“I can’t believe I even fired a gun!” Scott squeaks. “Don’t tell my mom I think she’d kill me.”

“You’re 22!” Stiles cries - because Scott shouldn’t still be scared of his mother. But then again when Melissa had let loose on Stiles more than a few times when they were growing up, yeah she can be scary. Stiles has since gotten over thinking his dad was scary, Scott was still sometimes scared of the Sheriff though. He was the Sheriff after all. 

“What else should we do? A driving experience?” Allison asks taking a huge bite out of her burger. And whoa is she ever an adrenaline junkie, Stiles can appreciate that. “Go to a show, the casino? A strip club?” Allison raises one perfectly waxed eyebrow at Stiles at her last suggestion. 

“Ugh no,” Scott groans. “Dude you’re my best friend but I fulfilled my going to gay strip clubs back in New York.”

“Scott,” Allison smacks Scott’s arm. “This is your best friends mini get away. We’ll do whatever he wants.”

“God I love you,” Stiles grins at Allison patting her hand across the table. “But I don’t want to go to a strip club and have penises flying at my face when I don’t get to _do_ anything. And I’m not about to hook up with a guy at a strip club - mainly because I probably couldn’t even score. Casino, definitely.” 

When they get back to the hotel, it’s late afternoon and Stiles decides to pass out for a few hours before they go out tonight. He sends his dad a text message telling him about the shooting range and he’ll definitely fill him in on all of it later. After, he passes out and wakes up a few hours later to Scott banging on their connecting room door and telling him to get ready for the casino. 

They head to the casino connected to the MGM Hotel and it looks just like everything the movies depict. The striped carpets, dark walls, men and woman dressed in smart suits and fancy dresses, with alcohol all around them. There’s tables set up about, poker, black jack, roulette tables. 

Stiles has never been a good card player, poker and black jack were never his forte and they definitely were never Scott’s. Scott couldn’t keep a poker face if his life depended on it - his silly lopsided grin evident that he has a good hand. They’re definitely going to stick to the slot machines, roulette and alcohol, alcohol, alcohol. 

Stiles sets himself a limit of $150 to spend and once he’s spent that he was going to call it a night. He ends up spending another $100 on top of that because he kept losing his money in the slot machines and wanted to win just _once._ The alcohol definitely didn’t help his situation, the more he drank, the more drunk he got, the more the thought of taking out _more_ money from his bank account seemed like a good idea. Stupid casinos. 

Allison plays a hand of poker and ends up winning, smiling as she collects her winnings while the men look at her incredulously like a woman couldn’t possibly beat them without cheating. She just smiles, collecting her chips and saunters away from the table. She won once and she wasn’t about to push her luck. 

By some weird miracle Scott also ends up winning well on a game of roulette. Despite the fact that Scott didn’t actually _know_ what he was going, he had just placed his bet and before he knew it the croupier was telling him he won. Scott grinned like the toddler that he was before he was rushing to cash his chips in. Stiles only ended up winning fifty of his dollars back - but all in all he had a good night. 

By the time they decided that they were done gambling for the nighty, they spent the rest of their night at the bar getting fucking smashed and starting up random conversations with everyone. Their story of the night turned out that they were in a three-way relationship and they all _really_ loved each other. Scott always made sure to jump in and say they all really loved _Allison_ and Scott and Stiles definitely didn’t love each other that way. 

The later the night got and the more alcohol they had in their system their stories became crazier and stranger until they were all a giggling mess trying to get back to their hotel rooms. Stiles doesn’t even remember actually getting back to his hotel room or how he managed how to strip out of his clothes and end up in his bed and _not_ the bath tub. Because that’s totally happened before - on more than one occasion. 

“I’m glad to see that we have no new tattoos or wedding rings on our fingers,” Stiles groans the following morning - more like early afternoon. They’re sitting at the restaurant attached to the hotel ordering the greasiest food on the menu and litres of coffee. 

“I don’t think I’ve _ever_ had that much alcohol to drink,” Scott grumbles and Allison nods her head solemnly. They all look like a mess, Stiles looks pale, his hair a mess and Scott looks like he’s a shade of green and about to be sick at any minute. Allison had her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and absolutely no make up on. 

“I think we’ve replaced all the water in our body with alcohol. What if we turn in to some alcohol-fuelled superhero.”

“We’d never get anything done,” Allison points out. “Besides be very popular at frat parties.”

They all agreed they’d take the day easy, try and get past their hangover. So logically, they end up at an indoor skydiving place. Because isn’t that what everyone does when they’re hungover? They pay their $75 and are ushered away to get their suits and safety goggles on while they’re being walked-through everything that’s going to happen. 

When it’s Stiles’ turn he feels himself being propelled into the air, the wind pushing at his face so he looks like a dog with his head out the window of a car that’s driving fast. When Allison goes, she’s grinning, her hair flying everywhere and she looks like a pro - definitely not her first time. 

Scott’s turn goes well until his feet are back on the ground and he’s running off towards the bathroom to puke - all the previous nights alcohol and food down the toilet. So maybe skydiving while hung over isn’t the most ingenious idea they’ve ever had. 

“I just need a few hours lying down,” Scott bemoans when he comes out of the bathroom clutching his stomach. 

Which, is a good idea because there’s so much to do in Las Vegas and most of it more fun when it’s night and they can walk along the strip with all the lights and hustle and bustles that’s only unique to Las Vegas. It’s nothing like living in New York or LA where people are in a hurry with their head downs. Everyone is always looking _up_ in Las Vegas, trying to catch a glimpse of everything. 

Cirque du Soleil is on their agenda for the night. 

Scott, Stiles and Allison are in the foyer of the hotel just about to leave for the show and a late dinner when Stiles thinks he hears a familiar voice - or rather, _two_ familiar voices. But that doesn’t make any sense. Until he turns his head towards  the check-in desk and he sees who the voices belong to and he was right. Erica and Boyd are here. What the fuck?

“This isn’t a good idea,” Boyd warns. 

Erica just glances and Boyd, rolling her eyes as she hands over the credit card to check in. “This is work related, therefore we get to charge it to the company card.”

“Not in the fanciest hotel you can find,” Boyd growls. 

Stiles stops dead in his tracks, Allison and Scott looking at him as if he’s crazy until they follow his gaze. Work related? Stiles think. What could _possibly_ have Erica and Boyd in Las Vegas for something work related. In Las Vegas at the very hotel Stiles is staying at no less. 

Stiles starts striding towards them before Scott can get an arm around him and stop him. 

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Stiles demands stopping right behind Erica and Boyd. They both turn around startled and the woman checking them in looks up just as startled, faltering with the credit card in her hand. “Now you two are stalking me? How pathetic are all of you?”

“Stiles,” Boyd frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh come on,” Stiles snorts. “Like you didn’t know I was here. Of _all_ the hotels in Las Vegas you two show up here. Is Derek here? Hiding somewhere, watching from afar. Do you guys get off on this stuff?”

Allison and Scott managed to get behind Stiles, but not saying anything. Boyd and Erica’s eyes land on Allison and Allison just stares at them, eyes unblinking and her arms folded. Allison is definitely on Stiles’ side. 

“We honestly didn’t know you were here,” Erica answers. “We’re here on something work related.”

“Am I yet again another suspect in a murder that happened in Bali?” Stiles asks going for sarcastic.

The check-in woman hands Erica back the credit card and the keycards to their new room. 

“It has nothing to do with you Stiles,” Boyd sighs.

“It is about the same murders, follow up meetings. It has nothing to do with you though,” Erica agrees. 

“Thought the case was closed?” 

“C’mon Stiles, we should go. Don’t want to miss the show,” Scott urges. 

Stiles doesn’t budge when Scott tries to tug Stiles away. Allison quietly grabs Scott’s hand and says they should give Stiles some time alone with them and that they’ll wait outside. Scott looks hesitant to go but Stiles nods his head minutely and Scott reluctantly walks away with Allison. 

“It is,” Erica shrugs. “We just found a name of a local pack here in Las Vegas, the Wilkes in the actual murderers’ notes. Want to make sure the case is officially closed.”

“Erica,” Boyd warns, grabbing Erica’s arm and dragging her towards the elevator.

“He’s sorry you know,” Erica calls after Stiles. “You should call him.”

Normally, Stiles would have startled, felt his stomach clench at hearing Derek’s name - but his mind is elsewhere. The Wilkes. Where has he heard that name before? Stiles’ name rummages through all the junk that floats around in his mind, trying to remember where the hell he heard that name from before. 

Wilkes. Wilkes? And then, Deucalion’s name pops into Stiles’ mind. Deucalion told Scott, who told Stiles, that the Wilkes in Las Vegas were friends of Deucalion’s and to call if they ever needed anything. How does the Wilkes’ names come up in the actual murderers’ (Ennis) notes. That had to be a coincidence. Of course, Stiles doesn’t believe in coincidences - if only he remember that when Derek magically turned up at the bar he was at all those months ago. 

The Wolfsbane! That’s how the Wolfsbane matched, the one Stiles had on him and the ones found in the murder victims. Deucalion had been the one to give the Wolfsbane to Scott and Stiles. That was probably the only thing Stiles was thankful for - because buying that stuff was hard to come by and expensive - and there Deucalion was, handing it out for free. 

Deucalion having tons of that Wolfsbane on hand, knowing the Wilkes, knowing Kali who owned the bar where the murder happened - it all seems to make sense. He scrambles after the closing elevator that Boyd and Erica are currently in.

“Wait!” he shouts, getting his hand in-between the closing doors. “There’s something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Boyd asks confused. 

“You being here, going to see the Wilkes. It’s fishy,” Stiles heaves.

Stiles’ foot is in-between the elevator doors so that they can’t close and some of the other guests waiting in the elevator are getting impatient. Erica rolls her eyes, shoving at Stiles’ chest so that he stumbles backwards, her and Boyd walk out of the elevator letting the door shut so the guests can get to their floor. 

“What are you talking about?” Boyd asks. 

“You guys always wondered about the Wolfsbane found on me. Deucalion gave it to me, he’s an Alpha in New York.”

“Yeah Scott’s kind of in his pack,” Erica notes. “He was a suspect but our sources tells us he’s clean.”

“But he gave me the Wolfsbane. He told Scott that Kali was a friend of his and so were the Wilkes. And now the Wilkes’ name shows up in this murderers’ notes?”

“If he was involved why would he have someone murdered at Kali’s - his supposed friends bar?” Erica huffs. 

“I don’t know!” Stiles cries. “But doesn’t that seem weird? All of a sudden these deaths are related, you have proof they’re related now. The Wilkes probably aren’t safe.”

“They agreed to a meeting,” Erica sighs. “And there’s no _proof._ There’s only your theory.”

“But you have to admit it’s a good one,” Stiles protests, his hands flying everywhere like that will get Erica and Boyd to believe him. 

“I like you Stiles,” Erica sighs like she’s talking to a little child. “You should talk to Derek, let him explain. But leave the investigating to the professionals - this is our job.”

With that she presses the elevator up button, Boyd and her stepping in again. This time, they don’t let Stiles stop the door from closing and there’s nothing left Stiles can do. 

Stiles rushes outside to find where Scott and Allison are waiting. When Scott sees Stiles worked up, his cheeks flushed he’s at Stiles’ side in an instant asking what’s wrong. 

“Everything,” Stiles wheezes bending over trying to steady his breathing.

“What are you talking about?”

So Stiles explains everything - his theory. Scott and Allison listen intently, nodding their heads. They don’t interrupt Stiles or look at him as if he’s gone insane. 

“Doesn’t it make sense now?” Stiles cries, pleading with Scott. “I did always say I thought Deucalion was a creep - maybe he’s a creep _and_ a criminal.”

“It is possible,” Allison says and Scott shakes his head in agreement.

“There’s nothing we can do though,” Scott points out.

“There has to be,” Stiles frowns.

“We’re not agents Stiles. You told Erica and Boyd what you knew and they’ll have to proceed with that information. It’s not like _we_ can do anything.”

“I just - just have a bad feeling about this,” Stiles protests.

“I’ll call my dad on the way to the show, give him a heads up,” Allison bargains. 

Stiles nods his head as they get into the taxi heading towards the show. Allison tries calling her dad but he doesn’t pick up so she leaves a message and then texts him. She assures Stiles that he’ll more than likely see the message soon and then he can proceed with the information and that’s all they can do.

Throughout the entire show, Stiles is on edge. He can’t really pay attention and be in awe of what’s happening, his mind keeps wandering to Erica and Boyd and the Wilkes. Allison turned off her phone during the show and her dad still hadn’t replies and that only sets Stiles on edge even more.  Stiles just _knows_ something is wrong, he doesn’t know what, but he can feel it down deep in his gut. His dad had always told him to believe in his gut as well. 

After the show, when Allison turns back on her phone she’s bombarded with multiple text message and voice mails - all from her father. Stiles even has some on his phone, from an unknown number - and some from Derek. Stiles falters looking at Derek’s name in the unopened text message - wanders if it has something to do with Boyd and Erica or if it’s yet another text of him trying to explain, though Derek hasn’t messaged Stiles in a long time now.

Allison listens to her voice mails while Stiles reads the multiple messages from Derek.

**From: Derek**

**Where are you? Where’s Boyd and Erica?**

**From: Derek**

**Please answer it’s important.**

**From: Derek**

**Stiles.**

**From: Derek**

**Please. I can’t get in touch with Boyd and Erica.**

Stiles starts to panic and looks up to see a frowning Allison. She hangs up her phone. 

“My dad said he never authorised Erica and Boyd to come down here.”

“What?” Scott and Stiles say in unison.

“He said he never knew they were coming down here to see the Wilkes. He never authorised it, doesn’t know who did and now he can’t get in touch with them.”

“Derek texted me,” Stiles blurts out. He hands his phone to Allison so she can read the texts. “Said he can’t get in touch with Boyd or Erica either.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Scott suggests trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe they’re having couple-y time, right?”

“My stomach has been in knots this whole night,” Stiles explains. “I just _knew_ something was wrong.”

Scott suggests they go back to the hotel, see if Boyd and Erica are back in their hotel room. Stiles agrees - they heard the checkin lady say their room number so they could go there and just knock on the door until someone answers.

The whole drive back, Stiles is fidgeting, urging the car to go faster, get around the traffic. Before the taxi even pulls to a complete stop outside of the hotel, Stiles barely has time to throw his money at the cabbie before he’s running into the hotel and towards the elevator. Scott and Allison are close on his tail, chasing after him.

They take the elevator up to Boyd and Erica’s floor. Stiles finds their room number and bangs on the door, demanding that they let Stiles in. When no one answers, Stiles asks Scott to listen in and see if he can hear any heartbeats. Scott shakes his head no, says there’s no one in the room. 

Stiles slides down the door, sitting on the carpet, his back leaning against the hotel door. He rests his head on his knees, turning his head form side-to-side, trying to make sense of everything going on. Scott slumps down beside him, patting Stiles on the shoulder, trying to be there for him but not knowing that to actually do. 

Allison’s phone rings and Stiles’ head instantly snaps up. “It’s my dad,” she explains, picking up the phone and walking down the hallway a little as she speaks. 

“Oh my God,” Scott says.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Shh,” Scott says again - he’s clearly listening in on the conversation Allison is having with her dad. Stiles can sense Scott stiffening beside him and Stiles knows it’s bad news. He just wishes Scott would tell him already. 

When Allison hangs up the phone, she hesitates before she speaks. She stops in front of Scott and Stiles, sliding down so her back is against the opposite wall. “My dad called some of his hunter friends out here in Las Vegas, he told them to go where the Wilkes’ live. By the time the hunters got there there was a fire and the police and fire department was there. They couldn’t get in but one of the firefighters said there were dead bodies in there.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles says going pale. “Erica and Boyd?”

“I don’t know,” Allison confesses. “There was at least a few bodies in there though.”

Scott squeezes Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I”m so sorry Stiles,” Allison says.

“We need to go. We need to get back to LA,” Stiles says shrugging Scott’s hand off his shoulder, he gets up, stretching his legs.

“Now?” Scott asks standing up suddenly.

“Yes, now. I don’t care if I have to drive all the way there! There’s no way I can sleep here another night knowing what’s happened.”

“It’s okay Stiles,” Allison says helpfully. “We’ll check out now and start driving back.”

**

The minute Derek gets a call from his boss, Chris, asking about Boyd and Erica, Derek knows something is wrong. Chris explains he got a call from Allison, telling him that Boyd and Erica were in Las Vegas and explains everything Stiles had told her. 

When he hung up his call with Chris, he calls Isaac, needs to explain everything just in case Isaac hadn’t heard anything. Isaac is just as startled to hear everything going on and they both agree to meet at the agency despite the late hour. 

When they both arrive at the agency, Chris is already there, with bad news. Chris sits Derek and Isaac down on their own before Chris talks to the rest of the agents in and explains. He explains how he had his hunter friends go to the Wilkes’ place and how there was a fire and dead bodies inside. They have no way yet of knowing if Boyd and Erica were in there - but everyone already knows. Even if Erica and Boyd got out of the house and were injured, they’d still find a way to contact someone at the agency, even if it was the last thing they did. They’d need to wait for confirmation from the coroners, but it would only solidify what they already knew.

Derek feels his world crashing down around him, Isaac is stunned into silence beside him until he hears a hiccup come from Isaac. When Derek looks over, Isaac is crying, trying to cry silently to himself. Derek doesn’t want Isaac to feel like he’s alone in this, he brings his around Isaac’s shoulder and brings him in. Isaac shakes quietly beside Derek and Derek just feels numb - because this can’t be true.

Chris leaves them alone, going into the debriefing room to notify everyone else. Derek may have his own pack back home, but when he was here in LA, Erica, Boyd and Isaac were his pack. They didn’t have their own Alpha, one of the few roaming omega’s who didn’t attract any trouble. If worse came to worse, Erica, Boyd and Isaac could always claim they were part of the Hale pack and they wouldn't be bothered. 

Erica, Boyd and Isaac didn’t have a lot of family, only had themselves and they were as close as anyone could get without being related. For Isaac to lose the two of them, it would feel like he’s lost the only family he’s ever truly known. Derek knows he needs to be there for Isaac right now, needs to be strong one. 

Once Isaac has calmed down a little, wiping his eyes and snot onto his sleeve, Derek and Isaac make their way into the debriefing room. The rest of the agents have clearly been informed because when the two of them enter, everyone looks up and gives them these sympathetic looks. Kate, unsurprisingly is no where to be found. She would run at the first sign of trouble, stay hidden so she doesn’t need to deal with any of it. It’s a good thing though, she’s late the last person Derek would want to see. 

“Agents from the East Coast are making their way towards where Deucalion resides,” Chris explains to the whole room. “Once he’s apprehended we’re going to extradite him to the West Coast. If he was involved, we want him here charged for the murders of our agents and as well as the others. We’re not going to know anything for certain until we speak to him.”

There’s not much more to say at the meeting since no one knows what’s truly going on yet, what’s true and what’s false. Derek insists that Isaac come back to his apartment and sleep there for the night, because Isaac shouldn't be alone. Isaac doesn’t protests and Derek knew he wouldn’t. Isaac would want to be around pack right about now anyway.

Isaac falls asleep on Derek’s bed, Derek beside him. Derek can hear Isaac snuffle his nose a couple times throughout the early hours of the mornings but then eventually Isaac’s heartbeat falls into a steady, slower rhythm telling Derek that he’s finally fallen asleep. Only after Derek knows Isaac is asleep does he feel his eyes start to get heavy and droop, falling asleep himself.

**

When Scott, Allison and Stiles finally make it back to LA it’s almost 4 in the morning. Stiles doesn’t know what he wants to do or where to go, but Scott drags him inside their apartment and tells him he needs to get some rest first before they do anything else. It’ll do no good if Stiles is so tired he passes out. Allison goes back to her apartment and tells them she’ll see them first thing in the morning. 

Stiles really must have been tired but he doesn’t even put up one protest when Scott drags him into the apartment and towards Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles falls asleep on his own bed, with his clothes and shoe still on. He wakes up a few hours later, drool all over his pillow and his legs hanging awkwardly off of the bed. 

“I have to go see Derek,” Stiles sighs sitting at the kitchen table. Allison since came over and is pouring a cup of coffee for the three of them. Scott hands Allison the milk and sugar. “I don’t even know where he lives. I haven’t even ever been to his apartment. God, how was that not even a sign something was wrong with our relationship?”

“If it helps I can figure out his address from my dad.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go see him?” Scott hedges. 

“I’m not going to go see him about what happened between him and I. I’m going to go see him about what happened to Erica and Boyd,” Stiles whispers their name like it’ll change the fact that they’re more than likely dead. “My problem with him has nothing to do with anything else that’s happened.”

“Want me to come with you?” Scott asks trying to be helpful. 

Stiles snorts shaking his head. “Nah it’s alright, thanks bud. But I’m not about to fall into his bed for some sympathy sex.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Scott says scrunching up his nose. 

**

Derek’s asleep on his bed, half waking up when he thinks he hears footsteps approaching his door. It wasn’t like he was fully asleep, just laying down with his eyes closed at least trying to form some semblance of sleep. Isaac is still on the bed, his head practically hanging off of his side of the bed, his feet on top of Derek’s calf. If it’s even possible, Isaac sleeps more strangely than Stiles. 

Stiles. As if just _thinking_ about it is enough - there’s a knock on the door. Derek would have ignored it, Boyd, Erica and Cora have keys and are not shy about letting themselves in - which means it’s just some random person, maybe the landlord. But Derek can hear the familiar heartbeat, if now only a little bit more erratic - but the underlying beat of the heart is the same, it’s Stiles. 

Isaac whines, half awake, half asleep as he repositions himself so that he’s now fully on the bed. 

“Stay here, sleep,” Derek whispers getting up from the bed. He shuts his bedroom door behind him quietly - not that it’ll block out the conversation. Plus, Stiles doesn’t need to see Isaac and get the wrong idea. Not that he thinks Stiles would get the wrong idea, given the circumstances. 

Derek braces himself, resting his forehead on the door for a few seconds. He’s grateful Stiles isn’t a werewolf, can’t sense that Derek’s on the other side of the door trying to compose himself. Before Stiles decides to give up and leave or Derek loses his confidence, he opens the door, sees Stiles standing there, hands in his pockets and his shoulder slouched.

“Stiles,” Derek says by way of greeting - not acting surprised. 

“Derek,” Stiles breaths stepping in to the apartment. He removes his hands from his pockets and wraps them around Derek’s torso - bringing him into a hug. 

Derek fumbles back a little, unsure of where to put his hands. Stiles buries his face into Derek’s shoulder not saying a word. Derek reluctantly, hesitantly puts his hands on Stiles’ upper back. 

“I’m so sorry Derek,” Stiles whispers. “I had a bad feeling and the minute I heard something was wrong I had to come back to LA.”

“You were in Las Vegas,” Derek says dumbly. That bit of information has already been established. 

“Yeah,” Stiles says pulling away from Derek. He’s back to awkward now, putting his hands back in his pockets and looking around the apartment. Right, how did Stiles know where Derek lived? It’s as if Stiles can read minds because he answers the unspoken question. “Allison told me where you lived. Well, she called some dude - Danny - from the agency and he told her and she told me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Derek shrugs, though he’s all of a sudden very self conscious of his apartment and its minimal decor. Derek walks towards the kitchen area, leaning against the counter. He’d tell Stiles to sit in his little family room area but that seems to formal, more of their former relationship rather than whatever their current relationship or lack there of is now. 

“Have you heard anything?” Stiles asks sitting down on one of the barstools. His fingers trace an idle pattern on the aluminium island, fingers digging into the little grooves and dents. “I mean, can you even tell me anything?” Stiles asks with a frown.

“Of course I can-”

“Because it’s not like you could tell me anything before when we were dating,” Stiles sneers. “And that was the same case as this, right?”

“Stiles-” Derek pushes off the counter, wanting to move closer to Stiles but stops mid-step. Derek’s not allowed to do that anymore, thinks Stiles would find it unwelcome.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighs. “For being rude, not for what I said but now is not the time to talk about that. I just want to know about Boyd and Erica.”

“We have to wait for the coroner but firemen and agents need to work through all the rubble and debris first, to make sure they didn’t leave anyone or anything behind,” Derek explains. “But if either one of them made it out, no matter what they would have found a way to contact us.”

“I - yeah, that’s - what I thought,” Stiles says fumbling with his words. “I warned them. Not like it makes me feel any better to say I was right but I just _knew,_ you know?”

“I know Stiles.”

“If there’s anything I can do, any information I can provide, just let me or Scott know. We’re more than willing to help.”

“Thanks,” Derek says trying to make eye contact with Stiles for the first time since Stiles came into his apartment. But Stiles’ eyes are either fixed on the counter, his hands, or just to the side of Derek’s face.

“I should go.”

“Stiles-”

“Honestly Derek, now is not the time to talk about anything that happened between us because I’ll just end up saying something I’ll regret saying. You’re hurting, I feel bad, and dealing with all of this,” Stiles emphasise waving his hand between the two of them. “Is the last thing that should be on your mind right now.” 

Stiles gets off the bar stool and makes his way towards Derek’s front door. He doesn’t turn around to say goodbye to Derek, or to even see if Derek is following. 

“Nice apartment by the way,” is the last thing Stiles says as he shuts the front door behind him and leaves. 

He can hear Isaac rustling around in his bedroom, knows that he’s been awake and more than likely been listening to the whole conversation since Stiles stepped foot in the apartment. Derek sighs, composing himself before he heads back to his bedroom. He knows he needs to be the strong one out of him and Isaac. 

They both take a shower - separately - and Isaac puts on some of Derek’s clothe that don’t really fit him anymore, making their way back to the agency. No one is going to get much sleep or rest until this whole case is shut. 

**

The following day, Deucalion touches down in LA escorted by multiple SMEA agents, loaded with Wolfsbane bullets and guns. When Deucalion enters the SMEA building there’s a buzz around the whole building, agents, techies, scientists, hell even the janitorial staff wanted a look at him. They would have paid an arm to be on the other side of the glass mirror to see the interrogation.

That was reserved for Derek, Isaac, Chris and Danny. Danny was going to man the cameras and make sure everything was being recorded from the other side of the double-sided mirror. 

They didn’t bother going with a good cop/bad cop routine - this wasn’t a game, wasn’t a joke. Derek, Isaac and Chris all entered the interrogation room, to see a smiling Deucalion sitting in the chair, Wolfsbane cuffs around his legs and looping up to around his wrists. The cuffs at his wrists are looped through a metal loop on the table so that he can’t get up and try and make a run for it. 

“Well well, who do we have here?” Deucalion asks in a prominent British accent. He’s wearing dark glasses, sporting a scruffy, sparse blonde beard and looks the very definition of calm. Derek had time to properly read his file yesterday while they waited for the coroners final confirmation - Erica and Boyd _were_ dead - and apparently Deucalion had been blinded by hunters years ago and even his werewolf healing couldn’t fix it.

“Don’t play coy Deucalion,” Chris says. Derek sits down in the one chair opposite Deucalion. Chris stands behind him and Isaac stands in the corner, arms folded. 

“Three of you, is that really necessary Chris?” Deucalion smiles. 

“Two of our agents are dead,” Chris supplies.

“You can’t possibly think I did it,” Deucalion laughs, a smile tugging at his lips. He folds his hands together as best as he can in his cuffs and looks at the three of them - as if he _can_ see them. “If I remember correctly, they were killed in Las Vegas. I reside in New York.”

“You didn’t need to be the one that actually carried out the murders,” Chris continues. “You just had to put the word out and it would be done, no questions asked. What I want to know, is why?”

Deucalion just leans back in his chair, smiling to himself and not saying anything, not providing any information and it’s grating Derek’s last nerve. “How was Stiles and Scott involved?” Derek can’t help but ask. “Why’d you give them the Wolfsbane that was used for all these other murders? Did you try and frame them?”

Deucalion laughs, full belly laugh and _that_ really gets on Derek’s last nerve. He bangs his hands on the desk, lunging across the table to make a grab for Deucalion’s shirt, to punch his face senselessly, smash those ridiculous glasses and more so wipe that smile off his face. Chris gets his hands on Derek, Isaac grabbing at Derek’s other hands and pushes him back down on the chair. 

“Frame them?” Deucalion finally speaks. “Never. I quite liked Scott and Stiles. Scott was a werewolf, a _good_ werewolf and Stiles - well he’s smart as a whip, not scared of the supernatural life for such a weak human. The Wolfsbane was purely generosity on my part - I know how much that stuff goes for in bars.”

“I hardly think you just liked those two and never wanted them in your business,” Chris says.

“What business?” Deucalion asks still playing dumb. “But _then_ I found out Stiles, was dating a SMEA agent and I knew that could only mean one thing. Stiles and Scott being pulled into the agency and then the next week he’s dating a werewolf agent? I put two and two together and for such a smart young man, I’m surprised Stiles didn’t get it - but I guess that’s what happens when sex is involved.”

“Then what?” Chris says before Derek can speak because anything that’s going to come out of Derek’s mouth now isn’t going to be helpful to the interrogation - it would probably only rile Deucalion up. Deucalion seems to be enjoying riling Derek up, it’s exactly what he’s going for.

“Then I set Ennis up,” Deucalion says spreading his hands in a ‘what else?’ gesture, the chains on his cuffs clinking against the table. “He was a good werewolf, a good Alpha but he was always my scapegoat. Looks like that didn’t work.”

“It would have if you hadn’t murdered our friends, _agents,_ ” Isaac sneers, starting to breath more heavily - getting angrier. 

“I never expected for them to put their nose where it didn’t belonged. If you just closed the case with Ennis they’d have been alive.”

“No,” Isaac yells. “If you weren’t such a psychotic killer they’d be alive.”

“What was it even all for? You’re an Alpha already,” Derek points out, trying to ask evenly.

Deucalion explains everything. He’s sick of all these werewolf packs who are too civilised, too main stream trying to fit into society and into roles that _humans_ deem appropriate. Humans that _did_ know about werewolves thought they were savages, going to go on a murdering spree and wanted guide lines or laws to be followed. 

Deucalion thought werewolves should be able to live how they wanted to, how they were _meant_ to, like in the past. Live off the land if they wanted, or live in the city and drive fancy cars, but have the ability to go running in the woods on the full moon when they wanted. 

He also wanted power.

Derek thinks that’s probably the _main_ aspect of Deucalion’s whole plan. 

He approached packs, wanting them to join his pack, be ready to fight back the day that all humans were aware of werewolves. When some said no, that’s not how they lived, he killed them or killed the Alpha and it would scare the betas into following Deucalion’s pack or face the same death. It explains why many of the other werwolves form various packs haven’t been seen since.

He also wanted money. Taking over businesses and alliances with the packs that he slaughtered gave him power _and_ money. It was all petty, akin to what some high-rise corporate CEO would do just to get some money. Deucalion just used the guise of werewolf politics.

“All for _money?_ ” Derek yells. 

“I was making my way towards Beacon Hills now that my pack has ventured to LA,” Deucalion says tiling his head. “Do you think Talia would have agreed to my terms? Or do you think I’d have to kill her to get the rest of her pack to follow. Tell me Derek, would you have followed if it meant saving your pack, saving Stiles, saving _Erica and Boyd?”_

This time, when Derek lunges across the table Chris or Isaac don’t try and stop him. Derek lands one square punch across Deucalion’s jaw, hearing the bones crack. His glasses go flying across the room. Deucalion’s eyes are tinged red like he’s been awake all night and it just _feels_ like he’s staring right at Derek - still smiling despite the fact that he’s been hit.

Derek lands three more punches across Deucalion’s jaw before Chris and Isaac finally pull him off. Chris shoves Derek and Isaac out the door and tells them to talk a walk, cool off and he’ll finish with Deucalion.

The thing about SMEA still being pretty much underground, is that they don’t have the whole innocent until proven guilty thing. They do have mini trials for certain cases, but for the most part, once you’re found guilty, you’re guilty - and if you _are_ actually innocent, well then you’re shit out of luck. Fortunately, in this case, Deucalion isn’t ever going to see the light of day again - metaphorically of course. 

Now that they have Deucalion in custody, they’re able to recover all of his files and round up whoever else has been working with him out of their own free will. They round up Kali from the bar, even though they once thought she wasn’t involved, they get two twins who are still in New York and some others. The Wilkes were apprehended and charged just as severely as Deucalion, never going to see the light of day, for killing two agents. They interview other members of Deucalion’s pack who were part of it unwillingly, and forced to join his pack or die.

Those werewolves got their pardons. Once it was proven they were acting under distress, any wrong-doing was forgiven and they were given a clean slate but told that SMEA would be watching them just in case they got any funny ideas in the future. 

The case is officially closed, but it doesn’t feel good. Derek had wanted this case closed _months_ ago, but now that it is - it doesn’t bring back Erica or Boyd. It doesn’t bring Stiles back to him either. 

**

Erica and Boyd’s funeral is that Friday - if it can even be called that. The bodies aren’t buried, there’s nothing really left to actually bury. The bodies, what was left, was cremated at the local cemetery in LA. Boyd and Erica didn’t have much family, Isaac and Derek and by extension Cora pretty much made up their little family. 

But, a lot of people showed up. Everyone form the agency, save for a few who had to stay behind, showed up. Kate Argent never showed. Since there was no actual burial process, they stood around the columbarium, where the urns would be kept. Derek or Isaac certainly didn’t want to keep them as some sort of keepsake. Everyone got to say a few words if they wanted, Derek and Isaac opted out. Chris commented on how well they worked together - despite the fact they were always bickering - and how dedicated they always were to the agency.

One of the interns - Maggie - spoke up, said how she was terrified of Erica when she had to bring her papers, having heard the rumours of how ferocious and scary Erica could be - until you got used to her. And how Boyd had assured Maggie that she should just ignore Erica and everything should be alright, no not took her seriously anyway. Everyone there laughed, enjoying hearing all the good things about Erica and Boyd and not just the end. 

During all the speeches Derek and Isaac stood at the front but off to the side as everyone retold their memories - when Derek heard the heartbeat and smelled the familiar scent wafting towards him in the cool breeze. That all too familiar heartbeat they’d he’d grown so accustomed to. Derek’s eyes instantly snapped up, searching through the crowd trying to find the body that it belonged to. 

Derek’s eyes landed on Stiles soon enough, but he wasn’t in the crowd. Stiles was standing off to the side far enough away to be hidden from most of the guests at the funeral. He was under the shade of the trees, his hands in his pockets, dressed in nice slacks and a button up shirt. They made eye contact and Derek wanted nothing more than to walk over there and see Stiles - but he didn’t make a move. Stiles just nodded his head at Derek, a slight nod that Derek returned, before Stiles’ eyes drifted back to whoever it was talking at the front. Derek felt like he ought to look away as well. 

Once the ceremony was over, Derek made his way towards the tree - only Stiles was long gone. Even after everything, Derek thought, Stiles still came to the funeral. How he even knew when it was was beyond him, probably Allison told him. Stiles would never know but it helped Derek, to know that Stiles was there, a reassuring presence if even from afar.

“To Boyd and Erica,” Isaac says holding up his beer. 

“To Boyd and Erica,” Derek and Cora say in unison.

They’re at Isaac’s house, wanting to get away from the agency and the agents after the funeral. None of them really wanted to go home and be alone, so they converged at Isaac’s, drinking beer and reminiscing. 

Isaac smiles over his beer after taking a swig, his eyes crinkling as he remembers. “I remember when the three of us first joined the agency after being recruited, when Erica saw you at the office, the first thing she said to Boyd was she wouldn’t turn you away in their bedroom for a threesome.”

Cora nearly chokes on a carrot, thumping her chest trying to clear her air passage. Derek’s expression changes from being blank, to frowning, to looking horrified.

“And then she wanted to set me up with you before you and I became partners.”

“You sleep with more girls then there are hours in the day,” Derek points out drily.

“Yeah but she said that maybe I should settle down with a nice strong man,” Isaac rolls his eyes. “Apparently to Erica, that was you.”

“That would be awkward considering we’ve slept together,” Cora interrupts.

Derek freezes, blinking. He looks from Isaac to Cora, not sure what the hell he should say. “You slept with my sister?” okay, maybe he does know what to say.

“In my defence,” Isaac says holding his hands up. “You were never supposed to know. Also, she’s legal.”

“Awkward,” Cora sing-sings. “But considering my boyfriend in high school had the _biggest_ crush on you Derek, I think we’re even.”

“It’s not like I _slept_ with your boyfriend,” Derek retorts.

“Hearsay,” Cora shrugs

“I remember once when Erica was chasing a perp on foot and she was literally running out of breath and then Boyd comes around in his car, opens the door and the perp rams right into it, falling to the ground,” Isaac says changing the subject from the fact that he slept with his partner’s sister. “Erica was so pissed and Boyd just sat there in the drivers seat looking smug.”

“I remember that,” Derek laughs thinking back to that day. “Erica didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, until he showed up with a frozen hot chocolate and donuts.”

“That boy was whipped,” Cora laughs. “But it was sweet, how well they worked together and loved each other.”

They grow silent after that, just sitting around the coffee table, drinking their beers and munching on snacks. There’s not much else to say really, they could spend all night retelling stories, funny jokes they’ve been told but ultimately it doesn’t bring them back. It’s not like any of them want to forget about Erica and Boyd now that they’re dead - but sometimes just thinking about them is hard, especially this soon after. 

Derek crashes on the couch that night, wanting to be around Isaac and Cora. 

**

Now that the case is officially closed, there’s the matter of the _internal_ case at the agency. Chris had never authorised for Erica and Boyd to go to Las Vegas to interview the Wilkes, and if they went of their own accord - well that was a different story. But they hadn’t gone of their own accord.

Kate Argent.

When Boyd and Erica had found out that the Wilkes lived in Las Vegas and were potentially a part of the whole case, Kate was quick to say that they should go, it was okay. Sure, Kate Argent was technically higher up than Erica and Boyd but Kate didn’t have the authority to agree to such terms. That was something that was strictly Chris’ job - but Kate so often put her nose in business that wasn’t hers. 

It’s one thing for Kate to be reckless with her own life, but when she puts someone else's life in danger - there are consequences. Needless to say, Kate is fired from the agency. Chris gets the scoldings of all scoldings from the director of the whole agency on why Kate was ever given the power and position she was in when she was so reckless and clearly unable to be in a position of power. 

Chris doesn’t get fired though, he’s still head of the West Coast agency, just under a shit ton of scrutiny now. 

It’s weird for Derek and Isaac to be back at the agency, sitting at their desks, sitting in the debriefing rooms and going on with life without their friends sitting in front of them, all slinking off for an extra long lunch. The only good thing? Derek doesn’t have to worry about running into Kate anymore, having to see her in the hallways, smell her rancid perfume or the click of her heels. Apparently, she’d run off to Europe or something. Derek doesn’t care where she went so long as he doesn’t see her ever again. 

The one person he does want to see though - Stiles - he doesn’t get to see. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Isaac asks. They’re sitting at their desks, flipping through cold cases since it’s a slow day. “I saw him at the funeral.”

Derek doesn’t need to ask who Isaac is talking about. 

“No. The last time I actually talked to him was that time he showed up at my apartment when you were there.”

“You’re not going to try and get in touch again?”

“Honestly,” Derek sighs running his fingers through his beard, scratching lightly. “I have no idea what I’d even say anymore. It feels like everything happened so long ago.”

“You know, if Erica were still here she’d cajole you until you finally talked to him, fixed everything.”

“Unfair,” Derek narrows his eyes at Isaac over the desk. “Using them to try and get me to talk to him. Besides, she’s _not_ here so she can’t haggle me into anything.”

Isaac shrugs getting up from his desk chair. “Worth a shot, want a water?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually loath to kill anyone off (the amount of times I've even written about alive Laura should tell you that already) but apparently I needed more pain in my life, and quite frankly I think it flowed with the story. SO  
> *mutters under breath* Erica and Boyd die. SORRY.
> 
> Also so yes, Kate didn't have any actual part in the murders. I debated that but it would have been a whole web of mess to sort through and I couldn't make it work. Although, I actually kind of prefer Kate just being vindictive ever since Derek stopped sleeping with her. Because, well Derek's a wolf in the sack. heh..
> 
> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

Derek’s sitting in his apartment one night, waiting for his TV dinner to finish cooking in the microwave when his phone beeps. He figures it’s probably Isaac - it’s not time for his weekly phone call from his family back in Beacon Hills. There’s not a whole list of other people who text him, not anymore. 

**From: Stiles**

**How you holding up?**

Derek nearly drops his phone, startled to see that Stiles initiated the text. He knows it’s probably out of pity - losing your two friends earns you a lot of pity after all. He hasn’t dared text Stiles since everything, knew it would be worthless and quite frankly Derek didn’t want to put himself through the hurt of being ignored yet again. Though he knew he deserved it. 

**_To: Stiles_ **

**_As good as can be expected._ **

**_To: Stiles_ **

**_Thanks. For showing up you know? Meant a lot._ **

**From: Stiles**

**Even after everything I wouldn’t ignore you when something like this happened.**

Derek’s in the middle of typing a text back when his phone starts ringing. This time he really _does_ drop his phone at the same time the microwave beeps letting him now his frozen TV dinner meal is ready. He sees Stiles’ name flashing on the screen and he scrambles to pick it up and answer before Stiles hangs up.

“Hello?” Derek breaths loudly into the phone as if he’s just run a marathon and not sitting down. 

“Hey,” Stiles says hesitantly. “Sorry, is it okay that I called?”

Okay? Derek thinks. It’s more than fucking okay. 

“Yeah,” Derek says instead, trying to pretend he’s not desperate to hear Stiles’ voice. 

“I’m not going to ask how you’re doing again, or say my apologises because I know it doesn’t help - but I also don’t just want to gloss past it and have you think I don’t care, ya know? The eternal struggle between wanting to acknowledge a death and _not_ wanting to bring it up in every conversation.”

“I know what you mean,” Derek sighs. “But thanks and the last thing I’d call you is uncaring.”

Stiles snorts. “Ironic, given everything that happened between us.”

There’s an awkward silence between them. Derek not wanting to say _sorry_ yet again because he knows it doesn’t mean much, but it’s still something. Stiles is quiet probably because he doesn’t even know what to say anymore.

“I uh, you wanted to explain?” Stiles hesitates again. Derek can hear rustling on the other end of the line like Stiles is settling down in a chair or on his bed. Derek definitely doesn’t give too much thought to Stiles in his bed, because then he’d just imagine him being in said bed with Stiles. “About everything that happened? I guess nows your time, if you still wanted to.”

“I do,” Derek says quickly and then falters because where does he start now?

Derek fumbles with his words as he tries and explains everything. He tells Stiles about Kate and their past and how much he hates her and she manipulated Derek into dating Stiles just to break the case and get a promotion. He then rushes to explain to Stiles that when he started developing real feelings for Stiles he didn’t care about the promotion or anything else.

“But there was still a part of you that thought I was involved?” Stiles asks, having remained quiet while Derek explained everything. 

“A small part yes,” Derek admits sighing. “The Wolfsbane, you moving from New York back here, it was just all adding up.” 

“You interviewed me and Scott though,” Stiles sighs. “Why didn’t you just bring us in again if that’s what you really thought, why keep up the guise of dating me?” Stiles emphasises the dating me part.

“I wanted to bring you two back in, I kept saying we should. Isaac, Boyd and Erica agreed with me too but Kate kept blocking the idea and Chris just went along with her. They wanted whoever was actually committing the murders caught, not the henchmen.”

“I still don’t get it,” Stiles admits and Derek gets that. If Derek were in Stiles’ position he would never understand it, would be furious. 

They make idle conversation, Derek asking about Stiles’ job and how he’s getting on with the ballistics and Stiles says he loves it. It’s kind of an awkward conversation, as they try and find things to talk about - but it’s _something_ and at this point Derek would take awkward conversations over not hearing Stiles’ voice.

“That table I ordered from your parents place - the Ford car parts one you made, it was delivered a few weeks ago,” Stiles randomly says. “I haven’t even opened it yet, it’s sitting in my apartment, still in its box covered in dust. I hate looking at that stupid box.”

Derek winces, pressing the phone to his ear. He completely forgot about Stiles ordering the coffee table and his parents promise to ship it out. Of course it would have already gotten there and of course the last thing Stiles wants is to see something that reminds him of Derek. 

“I can uh, have it shipped back to Beacon Hills if you wanted?” Derek offers. He’d be more than happy to pay for the shipping, the last thing Stiles needs to do is deal with that.

“Nah,” Stiles says. “The box is starting to grow on Scott and I. We use it for all our junk mail. Maybe one day I’ll even open it up, see if it looks just as good as I remember it.”

“It wasn’t that good,” Derek muses. Not because he’s fishing for compliments - it was just something he made years ago when he was bored.

Stiles snorts though, huffing out a laugh. “Lets just say if you don’t have a future at the agency, I’m sure your parents will take you back at their business.”

“I think they’d love that too much,” Derek rolls his eyes to himself.

“I should get going,” Stiles says after a few moments of silence.

It’s the last thing Derek wants, he wants to keep talking to Stiles - even though he doesn’t know what to say anymore. But Derek knows that if Stiles hangs up that phone there’s a very high chance he’ll never hear from again now that Stiles has gotten his explanation. 

“Okay,” Derek says quietly.

“I’m not saying I forgive you or anything - but for what it’s worth I don’t hate you. Even though I probably should but you know me, I do everything I clearly shouldn’t.” 

**

Much to Derek’s disbelief, it’s not the last time he heard from Stiles. Stiles texts him at random times, silly pictures that he thinks Derek will laugh at. He’ll share tidbits from his day, what he did at work or what kind of gun he got to fire or a mock case he gets to work on. Stiles never mentions Boyd or Erica again, but Derek knows Stiles is subtly trying to cheer him up, even through text messages - Stiles’ own unique therapy. 

If Derek’s really lucky, Stiles will even call him. Derek never calls first, sometimes he’ll text - but he’s terrified to call Stiles, make the first move. If Cora or the rest of his family knew, they’d fucking laugh at him and relentlessly tease him. Erica would too. Isaac doesn’t - probably because the last thing Isaac wants to do is make Derek anymore sad or feel any more lonely than they both already feel. 

He even thinks sometimes Stiles is flirting with him but Derek can never be sure, a teasing jab, sharing a little too much information, being coy. 

“So I had a date tonight,” Stiles confesses into the phone. 

Derek falters for a second, sitting up in his bed. Derek had, well not been asleep, but laying in bed pretending to be asleep. He hasn’t been getting much sleep lately, he figures if he spends enough time in bed at night, eventually sleep will find him.

“Oh?” Derek asks, unaware of what to even say. Why would Stiles admit to that? To get back at Derek? And why on earth if Stiles went on a date, is he talking to Derek?

“It sucked.”

Well that explains it.

“It sucked?” Derek repeats.

“Yeah. It wasn’t even our second date but he started talking politics and I had to roll my eyes so hard at everything he said. He never even caught on.”

Derek chuckles, remembering their ‘first date’ when Stiles went on about his rant about politics and wanting to know what his respective dates views were. 

“Kind of a racist too,” Stiles notes.

“Where did you even meet this guy?” Derek drawls. 

“Ugh you don’t want to know.” 

“Well I’m sorry your date sucked,” Derek lied.

“No you’re not,” Stiles shoots back. Yeah, Stiles was clever after all. 

“I’m not,” Derek huffs in defeat. “But I felt like I should say it none the less.” 

“Lets just say he’s not going to be the man in my fantasy tonight when I jerk off because I certainly won’t be getting laid.”

“Someone like Liam Hemsworth then?” Derek jokes. 

“Nah. Someone tall dark and handsome and _not_ a celebrity. And wow was that ever cheesy.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I’m talking about you, you know,” Stiles teases. “You may be an ass hat, but a very hot one.”

“I feel honoured,” Derek drawls trying to play it easy. But he’s not playing it easy at all, thank God Stiles can’t see him. His face is flushed, thinking of Stiles jerking himself off and picturing Derek. Because Derek _definitely_ thinks of Stiles when he’s jerking off, when he wakes up, when he eats lunch, at work, at night, just before bed. Yeah Derek thinks about Stiles _a lot_ okay?

“You should. Night,” with that Stiles clicks off the phone and Derek’s left with his phone pressed to his ear and no one on the other end of the line. 

As much as Derek appreciates and even looks forward to Stiles’ calls, Derek never lets himself think about seeing Stiles in person. He doubts Stiles would even go for that and Derek wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if he even saw Stiles. 

Grovel? Confess his undying and more than likely unrequited love? Get down on one knee and propose? Or maybe get down on his knees and suck Stiles’ cock like his life depends on it. 

Derek _really_ doesn’t know what he’d do if he saw Stiles again. Talking to him on the phone gets his heart racing enough as it is. 

**

Laura and Brian decide to have their wedding in February. Laura is heavily pregnant and due in April but she doesn’t care and they both wanted a winter wedding. They apparently didn’t think through the fact that even though they live in California, Northern California still gets a _little_ chilly. 

There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground, the ceremony is taking place in a large open barn with high wooden beams on the Hale property - no horses live in there thankfully, so it doesn’t smell.

This time around, Derek had offered if Cora wanted to drive up with him so they didn’t have to take separate cars. Her answer? “Kiss my ass.” Well fine, Derek enjoys the peace and quiet of driving by himself anyway - at least he gets to pick all the music. He’s looking forward to seeing his family too, hasn’t seen them since Christmas, and by now they’ve given up asking about Stiles.

He certainly hasn’t told his mom or dad that he’s been talking to Stiles on and off again - before they get _their_ hopes up. Derek doesn’t even have his hopes up. 

Unsurprisingly, Derek gets to Beacon Hills before Cora and unlike the last time he came here with Stiles, Derek is pretty much ignored when he enters the house. There’s family, extended family, friends of family and random people Derek has never seen before in his life - all preparing for the wedding. 

There’s people in the kitchen making food, children running around and of being absolutely no help, and others in the dining room making decorations. Laura and Brian are no where in sight, which is understandable. The Hale’s were big on doing their own food and decorations. 

“Derek honey,” Talia says smiling, looking up from her mixing bowl in the kitchen. “Drop your bags in your old room and you can get started on the hot chocolate party favours.”

“Hot chocolate party favours?” Derek asks confused by way of greeting. 

Talia rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Fill the hot cocoa powder in those mason jars,” she points towards a whole crate of mason jars decorated with snow flake ornaments and a ribbon. “Then fill the rest of the jar with mini marshmallows, screw the lid on and wrap a piece of cord around the lid and attach the little tag.” There’s another, smaller box next to the crate filled with tags.

The Hales were big on decorations and going all out. And Derek was getting roped into making _hot chocolate party favours._ His lucky day.

Derek passes his dad on the way up the stairs to his bedroom. Jack beams patting Derek on the shoulder.

“Can’t talk son, have to cut out paper snowflakes for the barn.”

Derek snorts, shaking his head. “Have fun with that pops.”

He’s only a third of the way done with the hot chocolate party favours - getting annoyed every time his large hands try and tie the rope around the lid and attach the tag - when he hears the front door bang open with a flourish. Cora.

“Your favourite baby Hale is in the house,” Cora shouts. Yup, definitely Cora. 

He barely has time to register there’s another heartbeat by the door, when he sees the owner of said second heartbeat enter the kitchen at Cora’s side.

“And your favourite Stilinski is in the house,” Stiles calls out to no one in particular, cheeks a little flushed. 

Derek drops the aluminium mason jar lid and almost knocks over the bag of mini marshmallows - which would have been a tragedy - when Derek makes eye contact with Stiles. Stiles returns the gaze, smiles a little sheepish but doesn’t move any closer to Derek or say anything else.

Before Derek can even ask _why,_ there’s even more chaos in the house.

Talia is moving towards the kitchen doorway, forgetting her daughter all together as she scoops Stiles into the biggest bear hug possible. She practically lifts Stiles off of his feet, squeezing all the breath out of him. 

“Stiles! How lovely to see you, we didn’t know you were coming!”

“This one here needed a date apparently,” Stiles smiles nodding his head towards Cora. Cora just smirks nudging Stiles. 

“I just needed company on the drive up here.”

Jack, well he’s even more ecstatic to see Stiles. He pretty much tackles Stiles to the floor, forgetting that Stiles is a measly human. 

“This wedding just got even better!” Jack declares.

“Don’t let Laura hear you say that,” Cora snorts. She shoves past her family, towards the kitchen and snatches a few of the mini marshmallows from the bag near Derek, popping them into her mouth.

“What the fuck Cora?” Derek asks under his breath - he knows his family heard it, but at least Stiles couldn’t.

“What? I needed a date,” Cora shrugs innocently and makes her away around, greeting the rest of her family. 

Derek’s all but forgotten about the stupid hot chocolate favours as he watches everyone greet Stiles. Peter saunters up to Stiles, putting his hands on either side of Stiles’ forearms and leans in, smiling. 

“So nice to see you again Stiles,” Peter smiles. 

“I knew you’d miss me the most,” Stiles teases pulling away to pat at Peter’s chest. 

Looks like Stiles has gotten use to giving as good as he gets. But playing creepy-sex-innuendo games of chicken with Peter, Peter’s opponent would always lose. 

Stiles walks up towards where Derek’s seated at the kitchen island. Stiles toys with one of the jars of hot chocolate looking it over. They both know they’re not about to have a private conversation even if they speak quietly in the kitchen - not in a house full of werewolves. They could go outside, but they’d probably still be heard, but at least it gives the illusion of privacy.

“Outside?” Derek asks and Stiles nods his head, understanding what Derek means.

Derek leaves the rest of the hot chocolate on the counter, knowing that someone else will be given the task of finishing it up. Derek walks towards the laundry room/sun room that’s attached to the kitchen, grabbing a large blue checkered jacket that his dad wears and shoves on a pair of his dads boots. He unlatches the screen door and steps out into the chilly weather, Stiles behind him.

They walk a few feet closer to the woods than the house now, coming to a stop.

Derek turns to look at Stiles and Stiles just returns his gaze. Derek doesn’t even know what to say, or what the ever loving fuck is actually happening. This is all Stiles’ show right now so he has to be the one to speak first.

“Are you mad that I’m here?” Stiles blurts out after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“I’m confused.”

“Cora needed a date,” Stiles shrugs stuffing his hands into his pocket. He looks over Derek’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to look Derek in the eye. 

“Bullshit,” Derek snorts.

Stiles huffs, his cheeks reddening. Derek doesn’t know if it’s because of the cold or because Stiles is embarrassed. “Okay yeah that was bullshit. But you know Cora, she’s _your_ sister. Her pre tense was that she needed a date and it _had_ to be me.”

“And you went along with it?” Derek quirks an eyebrow. 

“I wanted to see you?” Stiles says making it a question at the end.

Derek stares at Stiles, taking a deep breath. Stiles wanted to see Derek?

“I’ve wanted to see you for a while now,” Stiles confessed.

“You’ve been texting and calling me off and on again for a little over a month now,” Derek points out. “And you decide to come see me at my sisters wedding?”

Stiles’ cheeks turn even brighter. He looks down at his shoe, scuffing it in the snow, trying to formulate his thoughts. 

“I’ve been trying to find a way to bring up seeing you again. I was waiting for you to ask about meeting up again.”

“ _Me?_ ” Derek asks incredulously. “I was under the impression you never wanted to see me again.”

“I kept texting and calling you!” Stiles removes his hands from his pockets, flailing his arms around. “I thought that was a pretty clear sign.”

“I didn’t want to push it,” Derek snaps back. 

“ _Now_ you’re worried about boundaries?” Stiles shoots, narrowing his eyes. 

Derek rocks back on his heels, looking startled. Stiles instantly opens and closes his mouth like a gaping fish.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Stiles says almost automatically.

Derek sighs, running his hands over his beard. “This is why I didn’t ask to see you. There’s no getting past everything that happened, is there?”

“But I want there to be,” Stiles breaths taking a step closer to Derek. Stiles doesn’t make to touch Derek and Derek doesn’t dare touch Stiles. But being closer to each other is nice, it’s like there’s a magnetic pull, pushing them closer together. 

“How?”

“I’d like to say we take things slow but that’s like the _last_ thing I want to do but I also don’t want to jump in you know?”

“Because turning up to my sisters wedding isn’t jumping in,” Derek quirks an eyebrow.

Stiles laughs holding up his hands. “Okay maybe _that’s_ jumping in but I don’t know, I just refuse to believe that it was all a lie and you were doing all for work and there’s wasn’t a part of you that was genuinely interested in me. And I’m probably an idiot for thinking that.”

“It was genuine, maybe not in the beginning but before halfway in, it was.”

“And then I opened that stupid crate and saw your stupid Ford table again and I fell in love with it just like the first time I saw it and then it reminded me of you and ugh,” Stiles groans throwing his hands up. 

“So now what?” Derek asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well I’m jumping in,” Stiles sighs rubbing his hands together for warmth. “I want what we had before but everything out in the open. If it works out, it works out. If it doesn’t, well it doesn’t. At least this time around if it doesn’t work, I’ll know we tried.”

“You sure about this?”

Stiles nods his head. 

Derek takes a tentative step closer, he brings his hands up to cover Stiles’. He rubs at them, trying to warm Stiles’ hands. Derek tugs a little more, pulling Stiles forward. 

Stiles snorts, leaning his head in, his mouth finding Derek’s. Their teeth clack together, dry lips against dry lips from the cold - but it feels _perfect_. Stiles presses kisses to Derek’s lips, multiple little kisses until Derek laughs against his mouth. 

“Want to get back in the warmth?” Derek asks. 

Stiles nods his head eagerly. “What are the chances your family heard everything?”

Derek looks up and past Stiles towards the laundry room. He sees _all_ of his family squished into the sun room, their noses pressed up against the window as they look on - not being at all subtle. Stiles turns his head to see what Derek’s looking and groans out loud.

Peter’s at the forefront and he lifts his thumbs up with a leery smile on his face.

“Oh my God!” Stiles groans again, turning around to bury his face into Derek’s chest. 

He can feel Derek shaking his laughter, his hands rubbing Stiles’ back. 

“You kinda knew what you were getting into this time around,” Derek points out.

“That doesn’t help,” Stiles snarks back pinching Derek’s butt before he pulls away from Derek and heading back towards the house.

Derek opens the screen door and his family doesn’t even try and scamper away, ashamed. 

“Don’t even say one word Peter,” Derek eyes his uncle.

Peter puts his hands up in surrender but he’s laughing and the rest of Derek’s family is cooing. It’s really, really, just fucking embarrassing. 

“Stop being adorable you two. This is my wedding, not yours,” Laura says from the back of the crowd. Her belly is poking out and her hand is rubbing over her stomach. Brian has his arm thrown over her shoulder and they’re both sporting matching smiles. 

“I guess we should move Stiles’ bag from Cora’s room to Derek’s room,” Peter smirks.

Fucking Peter.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. The barn is packed full of people and beautiful decorations. Laura walks down the aisle, her father on her arm and she looks _stunning_ in her wedding dress, her pregnant belly sticking out and it makes her even look more adorable and glowing. When Brian sees her walking down the aisle, he fucking tears up - and that just makes the whole wedding even more amazing.

What’s really the most amazing though? In Stiles’ humble opinion of course - is Derek Hale in a suit. Derek Hale in a tight fitting black suit, a bow tie, standing with his hands clasped together in front of him, standing beside Brian as one of the groomsmen. And Stiles has to sit in one of the seats, staring at Derek Hale looking so fucking gorgeous and then Stiles has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be paying attention to the ceremony and not his new, old boyfriend. 

It’s as if Derek knows what Stiles is thinking because he makes quick eye contact every few minutes during the ceremony, smiling at Stiles before he turns his attention back to his sister and Brian. Derek even looks like he’s blushing and isn’t that fucking _adorable_. 

The minute an acceptable amount of time has passed after the wedding, the meal and all the dancing and drinking - Stiles and Derek retreat to Derek’s bedroom. It’s not like Derek’s family doesn’t give them _knowing_ looks as they walk hand-in-hand through the house and up the stairs. They’re both grown adults, but it’s still fucking embarrassing. 

**

“I’m so going to hell,” Stiles says the minute the door shuts closed and Derek and Stiles are alone in Derek’s old bedroom. 

“Why?” Derek chuckles.

“Oh like you don’t know,” Stiles points an accusing finger. “I’m sure all your werewolf senses have been going off all night - I know your family totally picked up on it. You officially have to wear a suit for the rest of your life because, damn.”

“Subtly is not your forte,” Derek agrees moving closer to Stiles. 

Derek pushes himself closer into Stiles, guiding them towards the bed. 

“And you’re obviously presumptuous,” Stiles says trying to keep the straightest face possible. He fails. He plops down on the end of the bed, spreading his legs to accommodate Derek between his thighs. 

“I am?” Derek asks raising an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” Derek rests his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, his two thumbs massaging Stiles’ neck and shoulders. 

Stiles’ eye flutter shut, sighing as he leans into Derek’s touch. Derek has magic hands, magical, amazing hands, that should always be on Stiles’ body - _always_. So, maybe Derek wasn’t being presumptuous because there’s no way that Stiles was going to go the night without having some sort of physical contact with Derek. 

Stiles grabs Derek around the wrists tugging until Derek relents, leaning down so that their lips meet. Stiles sighs into the kiss, his hands wrapping around Derek’s neck to tug him closer until Stiles is laying on his back, Derek covering him. 

It’s all too familiar yet foreign, to feel the weight of Derek’s body on top of Stiles. It’s the same comforting feeling, like pulling the duvet on top of you, over your head in the winter, snuggling in for a good nights sleep. Although the last thing either of them want to do right now is sleep. Stiles runs his hands down the back of Derek’s suit, to grab at his ass and pull him in as close as possible. 

Stiles whines when Derek pulls away from the kiss, until Derek nudges Stiles’ chin with his nose until Stiles gets the hint, stretching his head back and baring his neck. Derek takes the opportunity to run his nose across Stiles’ jaw, down his neck. Once Derek’s gotten his fill of scenting Stiles, smelling the all too familiar scent that he’s become accustomed too, yet missed, Derek runs his mouth over the same spot. Letting his tongue trail along the same path, nipping at Stiles’ neck. 

“Yeah definitely missed this,” Stiles sighs pushing at Derek’s shoulders until Derek is up and off of him. 

“Missed you,” Derek says loosening his bow tie, slinking out of his jacket and starts to undo his dress shirt. 

Once they’re both naked, Derek drops to his knees by the edge of the bed, grabbing Stiles by the ass and tugging him down until Stiles’ legs are dangling off the end of the bed, planted on the ground. Derek doesn’t take his hands off of Stiles’ ass though, instead squeezes Stiles’ ass a few times as he noses around Stiles’ cock. 

Just having Derek’s face anywhere near Stiles’ cock is enough to get him to start to harden. Feeling Derek’s tongue roaming every where but around Stiles’ cock is enough to get him fucking whining. Derek’s tongue traces the crease where Stiles’ groin meets his hips, biting and sucking. He sucks a hickey into Stiles’ thigh, and then gives Stiles a matching one on the other side.

Stiles is about to protest, stroking his cock to full hardness when Derek finally removes his mouth from Stiles’ thigh. Stiles runs the tip of his cock across Derek’s lips, letting the pre come coat his lips. He taps his dick a few times on Derek’s lips before Derek finally opens up.

Derek hums his approval as he wraps his mouth around Stiles’ cock and bobs his head down. Derek’s hands squeeze Stiles’ ass harder as he works his mouth up and down Stiles’ shaft, leaving a slippery trail behind. 

Derek’s mouth around Stiles’ cock is everything Stiles has needed these past few months. It makes his stomach drop - the good, fun kind of drop - his toes digging into the shaggy carpet on the floor. When Stiles looks down the length of his body, and sees the way Derek’s eyes are closed, those perfect cheekbones hollowed out - Stiles is ready to come.

“Stop, stop stop,” Stiles rasps squeezing the base of his cock, waiting for Derek to pull off. God, he didn’t want Derek to pull off, but he _needed_ Derek to pull off if he wanted to come with Derek in him. 

When Derek pulls off there’s a string of spit hanging from his mouth, his lips shiny and it’s a sight for sore eyes. It’s probably the hottest thing Stiles has seen. 

“Lube in my night bag,” Stiles instructs scooting farther up the bed as Derek gets off his knees and pads towards Stiles’ bag, rummaging around for the lube. Stiles appreciates watching Derek’s naked ass bent over - Stiles has got plans for that ass later.

When Derek stands back up, he stands at the foot of the bed, lube in one hand while his other strokes his own cock. He stands there, staring at Stiles sprawled out across his childhood bed, in his childhood bedroom and it’s better than any wet dream Derek’s had as a teenager.

He watches as Stiles’ eye track down Derek’s body to where Derek’s hand is wrapped around his own cock and stroking it - Stiles’ pupils dilate, his breath hitching. Derek knows the feeling, watching Stiles work himself over is sexy. But the way Stiles stares at him, it’s not like when other people stare at him. He doesn’t feel like a piece of meat or a prize to be won. No, the way Stiles looks at Derek is as if Stiles is in awe. If anything, Derek’s the one in awe. 

“Do you realise how breath taking you are?” Derek asks. He didn’t mean to be so cheesy. Derek doesn’t do cheesy but he’s willing to do just about anything to show how much he cares for Stiles. Derek isn’t going to make the mistake again of letting Stiles go - not if he can help it.

Stiles’ cheeks redden, his blush trailing down his chest. 

“Shut up,” Stiles mumbles quietly, his hand trailing down his chest, circling his nipples until they harden and he shivers.

“But it’s true,” Derek hums, finally crawling up the bed so that he can touch Stiles. He lets his hands roam up Stiles’ body, from Stiles’ ankles, to his abdomen, to his neck. 

Stiles feels like his body is simultaneously on fire and bone-chilling at the same time. He feels hot and flustered, but also shivering in the wake of Derek’s touch.

Stiles plants his feet firmly into the bed, spreading his legs when he sees Derek grab the lube. He knows it’s coming, but his breath still hitches as Derek circles his hole before pushing a finger in. Derek works the finger in and out, feeling the tight clutch of Stiles, working another finger in a few minutes later.

Derek knows Stiles is ready when Stiles starts to grind down on Derek’s fingers, like he’s trying to fuck himself on Derek’s hand. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Stiles gasps on one hard shove down onto Derek’s hand. “Hard. I want to feel you in me tomorrow, know that I’m yours.”

Derek groans, removing his fingers form Stiles ass. “I’m just as much yours,” Derek says.

Stiles hums, scooting up so that he can lean closer to kiss Derek. “Don’t you forget it,” and then Stiles is falling back flat on his back.

When Derek pushes into Stiles, it’s like all the missing puzzle pieces perfectly fit together. No fingers, no vibrators or dildo’s can ever replace the feeling of being filled by Derek’s hard cock. It’s a gentle, reassuring pleasure as he pushes in slowly, giving Stiles time to adjust before Derek’s flush against Stiles’ ass.

Stiles just wants to be fucked until he forgets his own name, until he forgets Derek’s name and is just a wrung out mess of broken syllables. But he doesn’t tell Derek to move, to hurry up, because even just feeling Derek flush against him, so fucking full, it’s the most amazing feeling ever. He only rocks his hips up slowly against Derek, feeling the gentle pressure intensify.

Derek runs his fingertips down Stiles’ sides, feeling Stiles shiver against him again, and then he starts to pull out and push back in. One minute, Derek’s rocking in slowly, and then the next he’s slamming back into Stiles, sending Stiles flying further up the bed. 

“Fuck,” Stiles gaps. 

“Not hard enough?” Derek taunts, one hand firmly on Stiles’ hip, the other running up Stiles’ stomach, wrapping just tightly enough around Stiles’ neck.

Derek squeezes Stiles’ neck firmly as he fucks into Stiles harder, revelling on the pants and moans spilling from Stiles’ mouth. With one snap of Derek’s hips, he hits Stiles’ prostate and that’s when Stiles finally loses the ability to speak, a broken jumble of made up words and groans. 

When Derek pulls out and gets Stiles on his hands and knees, he fucks into him a few more times. Then Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ chest and heaves him up as Derek leans back on his haunches. 

“Oh holy mother fucker,” Stiles shouts, feeling Derek inside of him at a whole new angle. 

Derek presses a kiss to the middle of Stiles’ shoulder blades, bringing his hand down to wrap around Stiles’ leaking cock. Stiles reaches his hand around to tug at Derek’s hair, moaning unashamedly as Derek jerks Stiles off. He runs his thumb over the head of Stiles’ cock, twists his wrist as he goes down.

When Stiles finally lets go, spurting come all over Derek’s hand, he clenches around Derek. It’s enough to make Derek grunt, biting at Stiles’ shoulder and worrying a dark red mark, as he strokes Stiles through his orgasm. 

“That was -” Stiles starts to say before Derek brings his come covered hand up to Stiles’ mouth, popping one finger in. Stiles’ words get gurgled as he sucks around Derek’s finger, licking his own come up. Stiles moans around Derek’s finger, suddenly even more aroused than before - as if that was even physically possible. 

Derek pulls his finger out of Stiles’ mouth, Stiles making a popping noise as he goes.

“I was going to-” Stiles starts again, still being cut off. 

Derek grunts, pushing Stiles back down on to his hands and knees as Derek fucks into Stiles the last few thrusts until he’s close to his own orgasm, emptying himself into Stiles. 

Once Derek’s come, he collapses on top of Stiles’ back for a few seconds to recover, before he pulls out slowly, watching as the come dribbles out of Stiles’ ass. Derek puts one finger to Stiles’ hole, pushing the come in until Stiles whines and tries to wiggle away. Derek just huffs collapsing next to Stiles. 

“For the love of God,” Stiles sighs. “I was trying to say that was _amazing._ ” 

Derek hums his approval throwing a leg over Stiles’. 

“We have a lot of sex to make up for,” Stiles notes snuggling his head in closer under Derek’s chin. 

“If you’re ready for round two already, I clearly didn’t do my job right,” Derek says into Stiles’ hair. 

“No,” Stiles yawns. “Sleep now, sex every day for the foreseeable future though.”

Derek laughs, tightening his grip on Stiles. “Like that’s a problem for me.”

**

The next morning at breakfast isn’t any less embarrassing than the night before. Stiles and Derek are the last to make it around the breakfast table, as they grab their seats side-by-side, of course Stiles gets seated next to Peter. Peter who just gives Stiles a knowing, leering look. Stiles just narrows his eyes at Peter and takes a bite out of his toast.

Only, Stiles nearly chokes on his coffee when Laura pipes up. “You do realise it’s the _married_ couple that’s supposed to have sex on the wedding night.”

Derek growls under his breath, even though he’s turning into the shade of a tomato. Everyone around the table laughs and Cora smiles like she’s the most perfect match maker ever. Which, she kind of gets credit for considering she convinced Stiles to come to the wedding. 

“Bit late for that don’t you think,” Derek grumbles, looking pointedly at Laura’s pregnant belly. 

Laura tosses a grape, laughing as it bounces off of Derek’s nose. 

Soon after that - thank fucking God - the conversation veers away from Stiles and Derek’s sex life, as they all talk about the wedding and how they’re excited to see the wedding photos and the long awaited birth of the baby. 

Later that night when Stiles, Derek and Cora are standing at the front door, saying their goodbyes, Talia brings Stiles into a giant bear hug. 

“You’re welcome back here anytime,” she says into Stiles’ ear. 

“Thank you and thank you for letting me crash the wedding,” Stiles saying blushing a little when he pulls away form the hug. 

“Please,” Jack laughs coming in closer to hug Stiles. “You’re already family.”

“Okay, well I’m leaving since once again I am being ignored here,” Cora pouts grabbing her suitcase. “Stiles, I take it you’re riding home with Derek.”

Talia and Jack coo over Cora for a few minutes before everyone is standing on the front porch waving at Derek, Stiles and Cora as they get into their cars and start the drive back to LA.

**

There’s a lot of awkward stuff to get through now that Stiles and Derek are back together. They have to get back into the rhythm of things. The sex though, is definitely not one of the awkward things. Nor is the talking, not so much. What it awkward is when Stiles finally gets an _actual_ invitation to Derek’s loft and gets the grand tour. They gloss past the fact that Derek never invited Stiles to his loft before because Derek wanted a place of his own, away from their fake relationship.

But Derek inviting Stiles now, it’s a new beginning - a sign they’re officially a real couple. No one is under any illusions. 

It’s even more awkward when Stiles and Derek go on another double date with Scott and Allison. You’d think it would be because of Allison being Chris’ daughter and Kate’s niece, but no. It was awkward because Scott kept glaring at Derek like Derek was road kill - maybe that’s just what Scott wanted to make of Derek. 

Stiles not so subtly kicks Scott under the table. Scott shouts out an ow, rubbing his shin under the table and Allison and Derek look between the two of them with a confused look. 

“I’m sorry about everything that happened with my father,” Allison says shortly into their double date. 

“No need to apologise,” Derek says in all honestly. “You’re your own person. If I had to apologise for everything my family did well…” Derek trails off. 

Stiles snorts thinking about Cora and Laura, even Derek’s parents, especially Peter - they are a lot to handle after all. 

“Besides, it’s not like you’re in the family business,” Derek shrugs and Allison nods her head. 

By the end of dinner, Scott’s glares to Derek have withered down to one or two glances, and Scott at least doesn’t bare his teeth like the werewolf that he is. It’s one hell of a relief. 

**

When Stiles gets invited to Isaac’s house for the weekly take out, that’s awkward too. Not because Stiles has never been to Isaac’s, Stiles was okay with that. But because Derek, Isaac and Cora were quiet. Stiles knows it’s because they still miss Boyd and Erica, which is totally understandable. 

“I can’t believe I’m still out a job,” Cora sighs. “The amount of bars in this city and no one wants to hire me?” 

“You’re out a job?” Stiles asks genuinely curious.

Cora rolls her eyes as she shoves the last of the pizza crust into her mouth. “Ever since Deucalion was taken down, so was Kali and they shut down her bar. There aren’t any other Supe bars in LA. The only job offer I got was as a bartender at a strip club.”

Derek growls, still the protective older brother that he is. “Maybe now you can take the time to actually go to college and get an education.”

Cora makes a disgruntled noise, wrinkling her nose up. “Not everyone is made for school Derek. Maybe I could get a job at the agency,” her eyes lighten up with mischief.

“No,” Derek and Isaac say in unison.

Stiles cracks up as Cora gives her brother and Isaac the middle finger. Stiles figures it’s akin to if Stiles and Scott worked together. Well, kind of. Scott and Stiles working together wouldn’t be a good idea because they’d never get any work done and just goof off. Whereas if Cora worked with Derek, she’d probably just annoy the shit out of him.

“No one took over the bar?” Stiles asks. “It seemed really busy the _two_ time I went there, you’d think someone would have swooped in there.”

Cora straightens up in her chair. “ _I_ could swoop in there.”

“With what money?” Derek snorts.

“Maybe mom and dad will put up the money.”

Derek snorts again shaking his head. “Sure, they’ll just give you the college money they set aside so that you can open a bar.”

“It does have the potential to be a sound investment,” Stiles notes tilting his head to the side like he’s considering it. As if he majored in business and investments and not criminology.

“You’re not helping,” Derek sighs exasperatedly. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Stiles laughs patting Derek on the arm. “Aw don’t get your panties in a twist big guy,” when Stiles leans in for a kiss Derek puts his entire hand over Stiles’ face pushing him away, even as Stiles protests in a huff.

“Plus we’d get free drinks,” Isaac notes. 

“You’re all enablers,” Derek shakes his head. 

“Since when did you turn 80 and boring?” Stiles snorts.

**

Derek should have known better. Where his parents were upset at him for leaving Beacon Hills and the family business to pursue a career in LA - they were totally on board with Cora ditching college and living in LA. Because that totally makes sense right?

You’d think his parents would want their youngest daughter to get an education and a real career, a career that doesn’t involve owning a bar. Yet his parents totally put up the money for Cora to buy the foreclosed bar that used to be Kali’s without a second thought. 

Derek _definitely_ has middle child syndrome. 

Cora obviously doesn’t keep the bar name - Kali’s - instead she changes it to ‘Bandits Bar’ and thinks it’s _hilarious_ given the circumstance of how the bar closed and everything that happened there. There was already a lot of buzz about the bar closing down in the first place, and now reopening. A lot of supernatural’s were excited to have somewhere to go again. 

She redecorates the entire bar as well, she gets black tiles for the ground, black triskel designs on the ceiling. The bar counter and stools are sleek black as well. There’s half-moon booths, placed back-to-back scattered around the bar, and an open area for dancing as well, with a large area for a DJ. 

Even Derek has to admit that it’s an upgrade to how the bar used to look before and so totally Cora.   

Derek’s even touched when Cora adds two new drinks the to menu. One named after Erica, and the other named after Boyd. Erica’s drink is a fruity, apple, sour drink - in remembrance to Erica’s random love of apples. Boyd’s drink is the complete opposite of Erica’s. It’s not sweet, fruitful or colourful. Instead it’s a mixture of whiskey and some other stuff, and something Boyd would definitely drink.

“You are not wearing that,” Derek’s eyes zero in on Stiles when Stiles reemerges into his bedroom from the bathroom. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Stiles asks looking down at his clothing. 

It’s the night of the bar opening and of course Isaac, Derek, Stiles, Scott and Allison are going. 

“It’s -” Derek starts and huffs not coming up with anything. 

Because there’s _nothing_ wrong with Stiles’ outfit. He’s maybe in jeans that are on the tighter side than he normally wears - but it’s a bar opening and Stiles has the ass for the jeans, okay - and a white tight fitting shirt. The white will definitely stand out against the dark walls and floors of the club. It’s as if Stiles just wants to draw all the attention to him. 

“C’mon,” Stiles urges tugging Derek up from the bed so they can head out into the front room so that they can get the same taxi as Scott and Allison to the bar. “Lets have an amazing weekend, getting drunk on free alcohol.”

Derek hums his agreement, because he has to admit, his sister owning a bar does mean they get free drinks. 

“And lets just hope no dead bodies show up.”

“That’s not funny Stiles.”

“You have to admit, it’s kind of funny,” Stiles grins cheekily. “Anyway, you’ll need all the alcohol you can get since next weekend you get to meet my dad.”

“Don’t remind me,” Derek groans. 

Stiles laughs as they flop down on the couch in a tangled mess, waiting for Scott and Allison who are squirrelled away in Scott’s room. If Stile didn’t know better he’d think they were boning, but since they know Derek’s in the house - with his werewolf ears - he knows they’re not. 

To be fair, Derek doesn’t have _that_ much to worry about. Sure, Stiles’ dad knew about Derek, knew that he was an agent, knew that he brought Stiles in because he was suspected for murder. But, his dad didn’t know everything that happened after that. In all honestly, Stiles was too embarrassed to tell his father about what happened between him and Derek.

And, Stiles made Scott swear up and down, left and right, that he wouldn’t say anything either. Scott had pinkie swore he wouldn’t say anything. So, all Stiles’ father knew was that they broke up for a little while (okay it felt more than a little) and they’re now back together. 

“Lets be honest,” Stiles says trying to get comfortable on the couch in his tight jeans. Derek just looks at him with an amused expression. “It can’t be any worse than me meeting your family.”

“Noted,” Derek huffs. 

Scott and Allison come out a few minutes later, Scott groaning when he sees Stiles and Derek making out on the couch. “Werewolf hearing!” Scott groans. 

“Like I didn’t hear you two making out,” Derek counters.

Scott looks down ashamed as Allison laughs patting Scott’s arms. “Told you he could hear us.”

“Oh my God, lets just go. Time to get drunk!” Stiles beams.

The club is in full swing when they get there. Fortunately, they don’t have to wait in any long lines - perks of knowing the bar owner - and are ushered in immediately. They get their own private booth and a personal waitress to serve them their drinks all night, there really aren’t any complaints. 

Stiles and Scott even see the two other werewolves, Damien and Alexa, and the fairy, Maurice they met the first time they showed up at the bar. 

Like Stiles, Derek isn’t much of a dancer. The thought of other people dancing near him, their sweat seeping into his clothes is not at all appealing. Somehow though, Stiles still ends up with his ass gently grinding into Derek’s crotch as they stand around their private booth drinking and talking.

Stiles keeps wiggling his ass against Derek’s dick in _almost_ rhythm to the music, as one free hand flails about as he explains a story and the other holding his drink. Stiles may be a little more than tipsy but it’s a night for celebration, _everyone_ is a little tipsy. Derek included.

Not that it stops Derek from getting one of his hands around Stiles’ waist to stop Stiles’ gyrations. Stiles stops his story mid-sentence to turn his head around far enough so that he can see Derek and give him an evil look. Then Stiles is turning around and finishing his story.

As much as Stiles looks good tonight, and as much as Stiles’ gyrations have Derek sporting a half chubby, he’s not about to lead Stiles to the bathroom for a quickie. Mainly because he doesn’t want a quick fuck in the bathroom and secondly, he doesn’t need the bar owner - his _sister_ \- having to hear about that. Cora wouldn’t hesitate to ban Derek but not Stiles. She’d some how find a way to blame only Derek. 

“You’re being a bit of a Debby Downer you know,” Stiles whisper-yells loud enough for Derek to hear over the music. Stiles has his hands around Derek’s neck, bringing him closer. They’ve managed to find some sort of privacy in a far off corner behind their private booth. 

“Because I don’t want to get thrown out of the club that my _sister_ owns by fucking you in a dark corner?” Derek asks raising his eyebrow. 

“Something like that,” Stiles snorts leaning forward to kiss Derek. Stiles kisses Derek, bringing his hands from around Derek’s neck, roaming down his chest. “Not that I’d want to fuck in the bar, no one gets to see you but me.”

“And I’m the possessive one?” Derek counters. 

“Oh so you want everyone to see what I’m working with,” Stiles jokes moving his hands to his shirt as he starts to unbutton it.

Derek’s eyes widen his hands flying to Stiles’ to still his movements. Stiles starts to laugh as Derek huffs looking around him checking that no one saw. Not like seeing a man shirtless is _so_ scandalous or anything. 

Stiles eyes the front entrance of the club, nodding his head towards it as Derek follows his gaze. It’s a clear indication, ‘want to get out of here?’ Derek nods his head grabbing Stiles’ hand as they make their way towards the front door. 

They quickly say goodbye to everyone, Derek kissing Cora quickly on the cheek and telling her congratulations. Because as much as Derek, being the older brother that he is, doesn’t think opening a bar is a suitable job for his little sister, he still wants her to succeed. 

“Looks like we’re both doing well,” Cora muses patting Derek’s cheek.

Derek just nods his head, willing himself not to blush as Stiles pulls at Derek’s hand trying to leave.

“Sorry to drink and run Cora,” Stiles apologises. “But very pressing matters to attend to.”

Cora snorts, scrunching her nose up as she gets pulled back towards the bar. 

“Could you be any more obvious?” Derek laughs as they get outside, looking for a cab. 

“What?” Stiles asks innocently. “I have a very hot boyfriend that I want to fuck me, and fuck me now. Besides, I hear he’s a government agent, with hand cuffs,” and with that Stiles hails down a cab and gets in. Derek doesn’t scramble to get in the taxi, he really doesn’t. He gets in gracefully. 

Derek also doesn’t have his hands all over Stiles the whole cab ride home, ignoring the dirty looks he’s getting from the cabbie. Besides, Derek makes up for it by tipping said cabbie very generously. 

It’s all worth it when Derek has Stiles handcuffed to his bed and Stiles is a writhing mess as Derek fucks into his slowly, begging to come. 

It’s worth it their second time around too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek I can't believe I'm actually finished, it's kind of sad really.  
> Sorry if you were expecting any 'I love you's' or anything like that, I imagine they said it further down the line but I didn't feel like including that. The main thing is they worked past their issues and are back together and happy!
> 
> Some things I feel like I should clear up, especially after reading a remark that pretty much ripped this story to shreds (hey totally alright, still kinda like an ugh punch to the gut but hey):  
> 1\. Deucalion confessing was "too easy" - and maybe in a sense it was? But the way I see it he was caught either way, and he's an arrogant son of a bitch, so he'd love nothing more than to hear his own voice and air out his dirty laundry, and taunt Derek with Erica and Boyd's death. He does it to get a reaction, he's theatrical. Sure, I could have gone the route where he lawyered up, but to be frank that's boring as fuck to me, and I like the way I wrote it (still do) and feel like it wrapped up that part of the story nicely.  
> 2\. & the main thing, Derek didn't try hard enough to win Stiles back - now this I can and cannot agree with. True, he didn't do much to win Stiles back and it may seem like 'easy' but I didn't again want to go the typical route where Derek grovelled, bothered Stiles and kept bothering him until Stiles FINALLY broke down and decided "yeah okay I wanna get back together with you" while that's typical in about every story/tv show/movie plot and I'm normally okay with it, I wanted a story where Stiles was able to work through everything that happened on his OWN, without Derek beating down his door with a thousand and one apologies.  
> Has no one ever wanted to work through something on their own without having someone from your past popping up every two seconds? So yes, in a way Stiles did let Derek off the hook more easily - but it was more told from Derek's perspective, we don't see what Stiles was going through, what he worked through, how he realised what Derek did was fucking idiotic, but also not completely malicious. When, and only when Stiles was READY did he contact Derek, and slowly work up from there - and then there's the part where Derek just wouldn't cotton on. Stiles was leaving clues in plain sight, even flirting with Derek, but Derek was so sceptical, and wanted to give Stiles the space he thought Stiles deserved, so again Stiles had to take it in his OWN hands to go to the wedding with Cora, and maybe see about trying to work out things with Derek. Sure it's not going to be smooth sailing, but they'll get there.  
> I personally see it as growth on Stiles' part because he was able to work through the shitty situation he was put in on his own, he was the one that decided that he wanted to give Derek a chance again without being cajoled by Derek, and only then did Derek finally catch on.
> 
> Sorry for the long ass rant, but I felt like posting this here for people to see would be easier than reading any other comments. I completely understand people won't take my view, but at least this way it's explained that this is how I wanted the story to go. It's not at all the typical storyline plot we're used to seeing, and I specifically wanted it that way.
> 
> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments. :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hopefully the text is not weird? I've done it from my mac whereas I normally upload from my other computer so I'm not quite use to it.


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